Harry Potter and the Ring of Five
by vagabound
Summary: [Complete] After the Triwizard Tournament, Harry's summer is one where he comes of age in a harsh way, when an uncle he never knew of shows up and takes him under his wing AU,dovetails with OOTP Please R&R HGRHrNLOC
1. Chapter I: Summer

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter universe and don't claim any part of it. The non-canon characters located in this work are not copyrighted and are of my own imagination. I am just grateful for a chance to show my own thoughts on the Harry Potter universe and declare that I am not receiving anything out of writing this except intellectual enjoyment. Also, I feel I should thank J.K. Rowling for creating this wonderful world, and to all the people at fanfiction.net who inspired me to try my hand at fan fiction. Finally, any other copyrighted material (names of songs, vehicles, weapons, etc.) in this work I don't lay claim to and again state I am receiving nothing out of it.

Hi, this is Vagabound. I'm rather new at fan fiction so bear with me. I wrote this after giving thought to the idea of how there might be some wizards who **_preferred_** the Muggle world to the Wizard one. I mean, not everyone (especially if they came from a muggle background, and had experience with their world) would take to the wizard world. Also note that this is listed under the R category, as there will be graphic violence (blood and gore included), cursing equal to _Pulp Fiction, _and some fluff and sex later on. Anyhow, no more delays here is chapter I.

Chapter 1: Summer 

Bolts of magic flew through the air like bullets from a cheap action movie. Chips of stone from the headstone he was behind sprayed him, nicking his face and hands.

_"Leave him, he is mine!"_

_He saw a bolt of green coming at him and blackness…_

_A girl in the colors of Ravenclaw House appeared out of the blackness._

_"You wanted him to die, didn't you? DIDN"T YOU!"_

_She raised her wand and yelled "AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_Bolt of Green…He was falling down a black tunnel faster and faster until he slammed into nothingness…_

Harry's eyes popped open. Taking a deep breath, he got up from the bed in his room at the Dursley's. It was only the second day of summer break and things were…well…

_Pretty fucking miserable_, Harry thought. His scar wasn't hurting, which was a relief, but his nights were uncomfortable as dream upon dream was a nightmare, the nightmare that had been all too real during the Triwizard Tournament's final trial. His Aunt and Uncle were adding to his problems, as their usual coldness and general treatment of him had gotten worse since that time last year where Fred and George gave Dudley a magic toffee that made his tongue grow. 

Harry had heard once that a bit of joy equaled a hell of a lot of pain and trouble. This had proven to be true, in spades as he heard the Americans call it. 

Shaking his head, Harry got up and walked to his window. Privet Drive seemed to be the usual, though he did notice that one of the houses at the near the corner seemed to be empty. Looking up, he watched the stars and wondered what Ron, Sirus, Hermione, Ginny, and all his other friends were doing. Briefly glancing to where Hedwig normally stayed, he saw that she still wasn't back. Sighing, Harry lay back down and tried to think things out.

To say that his Fourth Year had been a disaster would be an understatement to say the least. Voldermort had returned, and it seemed war in the wizard world appeared to be approaching any day soon. What made things were worse was the fact it had been Harry's blood that had made the return possible. Then there was Cedric Diggory.

Harry couldn't help but feel that he was responsible. The whole year, he had felt he was playing in the shadow of Hufflepuff's hero. And, there was Cho Chang…

Harry vividly remembered his anger and jealousy over how it had seemed Cedric Diggory had _won_ her too. Before the Yule Ball last year he felt he had made a royal ass out of himself by asking her out Plus he hadn't exactly treated Parvati, the girl he had gone with, to a good time either.

_Harry, you are a miserable shit you know that?_

Harry couldn't help but feel that was all too true in this case. As he closed his eyes, he wondered when Hedwig would be back, and if he would get anything back from Ron, Hermione, and fervently hoped the time would come when he could spend the last month of the summer with the Weasleys. Yet, for the rest of June and all of July, he would have to put up with the Dursleys. To make things worse, with Sirius on assignment for Dumbledore, he wouldn't be hearing from him for a while, if ever.

Still thinking, he slowly drifted to sleep hoping that this would be a night spared of his personal demons.

It wasn't. 

                                                            *            *            *

"Wake up, you lazy bastard!" That was the high-pitched roar of his Uncle Vernon. Still scrubbing the sleep from his eyes, he tossed on a T-Shirt and pulled on a pair of jeans near his bed. 

Stumbling out the door, he ran downstairs to the kitchen. His lugubrious uncle sat reading a copy of the _Times_ and mumbling something about shiftless sods before yelling, "Eggs, and tea". 

As Harry cracked a couple of eggs and put the yolks into a pan, Dudley was watching the outside window with great interest. "Hey Dad, you see those people moving into the old Murray house?"

Vernon grunted and mumbled something about hoping they weren't strange.

Aunt Petunia, who had been cutting slices of grapefruit for Dudley, frowned and said, "Maybe it will be those dreadful …" and started on some family whose father worked for a company competing with Vernon's business. Dudley continued staring out the windows, as he no longer could stand watching breakfast being made. 

The year before last his school nurse had ordered that he be placed on a strict diet. Two years later and there wasn't much change to him, though he hadn't gotten any bigger. 

Before, the whole household had been on a diet. Now, it was only Dudley and Harry. Aunt Petunia handed half of a grapefruit to Dudley, then a third of one to Harry as he placed Vernon's breakfast in front of him.

Long used to the near abusive tendencies of his relatives, Harry dug in without a complaint.

Vernon growled, "Any more ruddy letters from those…_freaks_?"

Harry shook his head and continued eating. Over the years, he had discovered the trick of eating slowly made it _seem_ as though he were eating a lot. 

Yet, he was quickly finished and proceeded to get up and head back to his room. "Just a moment, you."

"Yes," Harry spoke to Uncle Vernon. Vernon, not even glancing up from his newspaper, as though the very sight of Harry offended him (which it more then likely did), replied, "I want both the front and backyards landscaped, understand?"

"All right, let me wash first."

Vernon didn't even reply.

                                                            *            *            *

For the rest of the day Harry sweated and worked in the sunshine. Mostly, it was spent de-weeding the yards on his hands and knees while Vernon and Aunt Petunia took a day trip into the city. Dudley had decided to spend his time going over some tapes he had bought.

Lunch consisted of a handful of water from the hose in the back of the house. He was gladdened though to see the familiar shape of Hedwig as she landed back in his house. Stealing a moment, Harry creped back into the house after the Dursleys had left for the day (Vernon telling him bluntly to not pull anything or else…) to examine his mail. It was a letter from Ron.

_Dear Harry,_

_  
How are you doing mate? Mom is going mad as Fudge continues to deny that there was any Death Eater activity, and has threaten Dad and Charlie with their jobs if they go to the press about it. No word from Dumbledore if you could stay with us for part of the summer. Hermione seems to be her usual self, talking about studying and wondering who will be the next year's Prefects and the Death Eaters. Oh, and her precious Victor Krum_.

(Harry couldn't help but smirk as he read that bit)

_ Bill & Charlie are staying with us as Charlie managed to get reassigned back to England while Bill is taking a leave of absence to work for the Ministry. Fred and George_     _ have started their joke business and even though they still have a couple more years at Hogwarts, it is already booming! Tell that bastard of a cousin you have that their Ton Tongue Toffees are making a killing._

After that Ron went on about his beloved Chudley Cannons, and the way the Quidditch season was looking before telling him a new development, this time about Ginny.

I swear Harry, Ginny seems to be worked up about you. As much as Mom it seems like! She brought up this idea of visiting you and bringing you some of Mom's cooking. Mom thinks the idea is grand and plans on sending her on Wednesday. When you write back tell me if that is a good idea.

_Ron_

Harry took a moment to think. The day was a Sunday, so it wouldn't be for three days until she came. Plenty of time to…

"Letter from a girl?"

Harry whirled around to see Dudley standing in the doorway of his room. Dudley had gotten somewhat thinner, but was still rather thick, though less so then in previous years, and this year was actually giving Harry a wide berth. Needless to say Harry wasn't sure what to make of this sudden politeness.

"No, from a roommate of mine."

Dudley opened his mouth, but stopped as both of them heard the unmistakable sound of a car in the driveway.

"Well… better head into the bathroom so as not to give them an excuse to get pissed off eh?"

"Yeah"

Harry had put the letter on his bed and had closed the bathroom door before he realized that this was the first time him and Dudley had had a polite conversation since he could remember. 


	2. Chapter II: The Blackest Evans

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Chapter 2: The Blackest Evans 

Dinner that night was its' usual affair with it's spiteful remarks about Harry (Dudley was again quiet and merely ate what food he was given), and Vernon complaining about this or that about his work. Towards the end, as Harry was getting up to leave Vernon growled at him to shine his shoes as Monday was the start of his work week.

That was when the doorbell rang.

Aunt Petunia glanced up from a magazine (on housekeeping) she had been reading and wondered, "Now who could that be."

She got up and opened the door. 

"Hello, Petunia. It has been ages!"

Harry looked to see a man dressed in black business suit enter the Dursley house. All three Dursleys were staring opened mouthed at the man. Were Harry not so curious, he would have been laughing at their expressions.

The new visitor was an average looking man at 5 ft. 9 inches (taller then Harry by 3 inches) with a hawk-like beak of a nose, dark brown almost black hair, and eyes of different colors. The right was brown, the left a dark green Harry hadn't ever seen before. In his right hand was a black cane two and a half feet tall that ended with what looked a silver globe on top. Under his left arm was a black derby hat.

It looked as though the man off of _The Avengers_ had stepped into the Dursley house.

This stranger hadn't broken step as he walked into the dining room to Vernon, Dudley and Harry.

"Hello, Vernon. I see my sister has taken good care of you as your roundness so amply demonstrates."

SISTER! Then that must mean… 

Turning to Dudley, "So this is my nephew Dudley, been a long time lad, last I saw of you I was on my way to war."

Finally, he noticed Harry.

"Don't believe we've met, young man. You are?"

Harry, still in disbelief, spoke up, "Harry Potter, sir" The man exuded authority and bearing much the same way Dumbledore did.

Momentarily, the man seemed taken aback. "You're Lilly and James's boy?"

Harry nodded.

The man's grin came back as fast as it had disappeared; almost as if he hadn't stopped grinning in the first place as he tucked his hat under his arm and moved his cane to his left hand. "Well, in that case, we haven't been properly introduced. In a family full of black sheep, as thought of by your Aunt over there, I'm the blackest Evans there is." 

Holding out his right hand, "I'm Alexander Slim Evans, your maternal uncle, at your service." 


	3. Chapter III: The Price of Exit

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Chapter 3: The Price of Exit 

Harry numbly shook his hand as Petunia finally reacted.

"I thought you were dead, we got a telegram saying something to you had happened in the Falklands…"

"No, you _hoped _I was dead." Alexander spoke genially as he took over a chair that was normally Vernon's domain alone. "That telegram from the Ministry of Defense said I was _wounded_ remember? At Goose Green?"

Vernon nodded slowly and asked, "That doesn't make much sense. You said you left behind that nonsense with Lilly and gone into the Army in what, December? And…"

"And by mid June I was in a field hospital after that scuff-up at Goose Green, the new boy who stopped a few rounds with his knees."

Alex took his cane and tapped the sides of both knees one at a time. "Stainless steel, Birmingham's Best." He laughed and continued. "After that I spent about four months learning how to walk and run again, but that stupidity earned me one thing. A free education, courtesy of John Bull and the loving British people at Sandhurst and the University of Cheshire."

Seeing their confusion, he explained, " My commander recommended me and a friend of mine who had did something just as stupid to be trained as officers and a follow-on education."

"So after going through that, I was commissioned and sent to the Royal Green Jackets. I got this in South Armagh." He tapped the green eye. "Car bomb exploded. Took the terrorist in it with it, but also took four lads at the outpost, an RUC traffic cop, and my eye with it."

Petunia looked horrified. Dudley gasped out, "That isn't a real…"

"No, it's a bit of glass, see…" Where upon he took the pinky on his left hand and poked out the eye, held it up for a second, and placed it back in as though playing with one's eyeball was a normal thing to do.

Petunia made a grasping sound and hurried to the privy. Dudley stared at his uncle with what looked like shock…and awe, while Uncle Vernon looked as though words were failing him.

Harry, who had seen people frozen into comas and attacked by giant spiders, wasn't as badly fazed though something about the eye seemed familiar.

As Uncle Alex put it back in, the eye turn right and then left before focusing directly on Harry. Harry watched it, and then saw it turn itself over, briefly seeing the white of the eye.

Wait, that's the same kind of eye Mad-Eye Moody has! 

As though he could read Harry's thoughts, Alex winked, startling Harry.

Before Harry could speak, Vernon had regained his composure.

"So what are you doing here? Surely the Army has a posting for you overseas…"

"Yes, it would be nice, but even though they kept me on I had to take medical discharge after that nice eight month trip to Saudi Arabia. After all, with the Soviets gone, there wasn't much need for men like me, so I made my way out before I was thrown out in the downsizing that followed."

Vernon grunted, "So are you looking for work?"

Alex laughed, "No, I'm quite happy working for Struan's Tobacco in Belize, but I was transferred over here recently and I was hoping we could talk business."

Harry had to stifle a grin for there were really only two things that got Vernon worked up: abusing him, and making money.

Vernon asked hurriedly, "Oh? What sort of business?"

"A thousand quid worth."

Vernon's eyes widened as asked if Alex wanted a drink before they started business. Alex demanded a scotch, with one ice cube and no water as Vernon hurried to get his drink for him.

"Anyhow, the assignment I'm on I figured I'll be able to combine business with, if not pleasure then at least fulfill my duties as an uncle."

Vernon looked confused.

"I'm authorized two people to help me establish this hunting lodge for the company near the Welsh border around Hereford. Way I figure, I can get acquainted with my nephews while at work."

"And what does this have to do with business?"

"Simple, I'm offering you a business contract to supply hand tools to Struan's Construction which is opening in Belfast in October. I'm authorized a two thousand pound advance on just to open talks. Interested?"

Vernon looked astonished, for to him this was as though a bag of money had just dropped into his lap. He nodded, but before he could speak Alex went on.

"Good, now there is one condition." By now, Petunia had returned and was listening intently. Money was as appealing to her as it was Vernon.

"The boys will be with me during the summer. I'll be returning the two of them to you about three days before school starts for either of them. Both of them will miss their birthdays more then likely here." Seeing the horrified expression on Aunt Petunia's face, Alex chuckled.

"Don't fret Petunia, it isn't as though I'm taking them with me to darkest Africa. Just a trip into the backcountry of Wales, nothing much really. Besides, I'll leave a forwarding address where you can forward, at the company's expense, his and Harry's birthday presents."

Vernon looked at Petunia, who still seemed undecided. Harry couldn't exactly blame her as the thought of spending the rest 

"Did I also mention that the time there would be spent at physical labor? It looks as though Dudley could use a bit of conditioning."

Petunia nodded, asking, "All right just please bring back my Duddikins back in one peace."

Alex grinned, "Believe me, he'll leave a boy but return a man. Now the barrister to contact here is one that has worked for Struans for years." He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket but then spoke to Dudley and Harry, "Before I go on, I want you two to pack lightly, bring one set of civilian clothes besides what you are wearing now, a good coat, toiletries, and something to read or amuse yourself with on the trip up there in a separate bag from your traveling cases. Also, since I know both of you go to boarding school, pack up your kit and bring it down here. You can store it at my place down the street. Either of you have any pets?"

"Yes sir, an owl."

"Don't worry then Harry, my housekeeper Linda happens to have an owl herself, and has all that is needed to keep one spoiled rotten."

Harry was unsure whether to tell him that this was an owl used to the wizard world, but then he noticed Alex idly playing with his watch chain. Suspended at the end of which was the Hogwarts seal showing the four houses, and the Hogwarts words: DRACI DORMIENS NUNQUAM TITILLANDUS.

Alex grinned as he finished, "Good, now move along both of you. Time is like money, and I don't like losing either." He then went back to discussing the contract with Vernon and proceeded to give the phone number of a broker who would help arrange the deal.

As Harry ran up the stairs to his room, he wondered how this was going to affect his studies. Unlike Dudley, he didn't have the luxury of a work free summer. 

Yet, he decided to think of that later as he had packing to do.

*      *      *

Harry hurried up and starting packing. Without much time, he grabbed a pair of slacks, a blue collared button shirt, pair of socks, a down jacket he had, and stuffed them into a black traveling bag he had been given by one of the neighbors for helping fix their car. His toiletries (toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, and comb) he stuffed into a plastic bag and put them in with his clothes. 

Everything else in his room he shoved into his two traveling cases and two suitcases, taking time only to make sure he had everything. Harry wanted to leave nothing for his Aunt and her husband to paw over. Placing them together, he grabbed Hedwig in her cage and began pushing the whole ensemble towards the stairs.

Alex, who had been sipping a drink, looked up as he saw Harry moving his luggage to the front door. "Hold on Harry, I'll give you a hand." Alex put down his drink on a coffee table and ran up the stairs. 

Quickly, he grabbed a case and carried it down the stairs. Harry clutched Hedwig's cage and a suitcase ran down and deposited it next to the door. As he turned to get the other one and the case he saw Dudley had carried down his other suitcase and trunk down the stairs and was pushing it towards the door. Not looking at Harry's eyes, Dudley pushed them next to Harry's other luggage, and started to carry down his luggage.

Alex asked, "Well what you waiting for Harry? Help him."

Together, Harry and Dudley carried the assorted suitcases down and piled them near the door.

"Wait here, let me bring my car around. It'll save us a bit of time just carrying the kit over to my place in shuttles."

With that, he put on his derby, picked up his cane and ran out the front door. Within two minutes, a black Land Rover had pulled out of the parking lot of the house down the street and had pulled in front of the Dursleys. Alex jumped out and opened the rear door and started loading luggage into the rear.

Harry and Dudley quickly helped out and within minutes had loaded it. Alex bid farewell to Vernon and Petunia, reminding them to merely drop any birthday presents off at his house down the street so his housekeeper could forward them to him. Dudley kissed his mother goodbye after he shook hands with his father. Harry merely nodded towards the glowering gaze of his Aunt and her husband as they loaded up in the Land Rover. 

Pulling out of the Dursleys driveway, Alex did a U-turn in the empty street (it was about 8 PM and everyone was at home sitting in front of the television watching the weekend game between Manchester United and London Arsenal) and drove the few yards to his house. 

There, Alex got out and ordered them, "Right lads, leave the bag with your toiletries and civvies in the car, and dump the rest of the inside. Then, make yourself comfortable as I want a bit of tea 'for we leave. Understood?"

Both boys nodded as they started unloading the car. Hedwig was flapping her wings and seemed to want to go out, but Harry calmed her down with an owl treat he had stashed in the cage next to the water. 

The door to Alex's house opened as a tall, pert woman with auburn hair came out.  She wore gray wizard robes over what looked like a green dress. "Need anything, Alex? I got everything rather well settle. And I have a pot of Earl Grey on the boil."

Alex went up and kissed her briefly on the lips as his hand shot into her robes. It was obvious he had been touching something he shouldn't have as his housekeeper laughed and slapped him away. Laughing, Alex turned towards his open-mouthed nephews.

"Lads, I present to you my housekeeper Linda Soames. She'll be keeping care of your kit while you're away. But before I continue, let's head in."

Arm around her waist, Alex lead his nephews into the house. It seemed to be like the Dursley house, albeit a bit unfurnished with some items still in packing crates. There were the usual things of television, couch, a handsome pair of chairs, and a coffee table in the living room.

Quickly, the boys and Alex moved everything into the living room. 

But just as Harry was about to ask where to move the luggage to, Alex motioned Harry and Dudley aside as he closed the door. Alex looked quickly to see that all the curtains were closed then grinned at Dudley, "Want to see something neat, Dudley?"

Dudley, looking puzzled, nodded.

Tossing his hat and cane onto the sofa, Alex got up and looked straight down the hallway towards a room. "Linda, is the room next to the master bedroom empty?"

"Yes, Alex"

Taking a deep breath, he stared at the luggage. Squinting, he spoke.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

With that command the assorted cases and trunks rose up and flew neatly into the room he was looking at and neatly stacked and sorted each other out. One stack of Harry's, another with Dudley's.

Harry was in awe for this was the first time he had seen a wizard execute a major spell without the use of a wand. Alex, his uncle, must be one hell of a wizard to pull something off like that. _If that is so, then what the fuck was he doing in the British Army, and not_…Harry lost his train of thought as Alex spoke to Dudley, who had watched the whole thing open mouthed.

"Go get some tea from Linda, I have business to discuss with Harry here."

Dudley nodded and left them.


	4. Chapter IV: Dumbledore's Job

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters.

Chapt. 4: Dumbledore's Job 

Alex motioned Harry to take a seat as Dudley left towards the kitchen. Harry sat on one of stuffed chairs that faced each other across the coffee table. He looked at Alex straight in the eyes.

Alex by now had also sat down and had pulled forth a letter from inside his jacket. He gave it to Harry

"This is for you, from Headmaster Dumbledore."

Opening it, Harry read the words.

_Dear Mr. Potter:_

_The man who delivered this letter is Alexander Evans, your mother Lilly's brother and your uncle by blood. Due to his youth at the time of your parents' death (he was 19 at the time) as well as other reasons that will be described to you at a later date, he was unable to care for you. At the moment however, he is here in Great Britain from retirement in Belize for several reason, but the one that need concern you is that with the exception of a week before the school year starts he will be training you in the usage of Muggle weapons and tactics. Again there are sound reasons for this, which he will explain to you. This will ensure a total of 7 weeks out of 8 during the Summer Holiday that you will train with him. I regret that you won't be able to spend much, indeed any, time at the Weasleys, but your survival is paramount considering the current status of the Wizard World. Therefore, I wish you good luck and will contact you again soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Angry, lad?"

Harry, who indeed was furious, couldn't find the words to speak and nodded instead.

"Good, because with anger you'll be susceptible to violence. You're no doubt thinking, _I've got a magic wand, and I've survived taking on the blackest fucking wizard out there so what the hell is point in learning how to fight with a blade or a gun?_ Right?"

"Something like that."

Alex smiled, "Well, let me demonstrate the error of your ways. Go stand near the fireplace. You have your wand with you?"

Harry was about to shake his head before he remembered that he had slipped it into his pocket, as he had been packing. He pulled it out and assumed the dueling stance in front of his uncle.

Alex held up his hand for a moment and spoke, "Give me a moment."

He held out his hand and spoke; "_Accio Wand", _and a black wand arose from a bookcase on the other side of the room to land in his hand.

"_Silencio Uno  _"

With that a purplish mist came from the wand, but dissipated quickly. Alex explained, "That was a spell to lower the magical signature of everything within one 100 yard area. With it, other magic users will have a harder time tracking our magic usage. Like the Ministry."

With that, he tossed the wand on to the mantle of the fireplace, and barked at Harry, "Now attack me you runty bastard! You think this is some bloody Jack Pudding's playpen with your dueling stance? ATTACK YOU COCKLESS FUCK!"

Harry pointed his wand at Alex and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_" This was a spell that disarmed a wizard by knocking the subject to the ground rather painfully, as it would be expected to do to Alex.

Problem was, Alex had the reflexes of a cat and had executed a rolling dive behind the couch as Harry had raised his wand from the saluting position of his dueling stance. 

Harry pointed the wand to the couch and was about yell a spell to raise it when he spotted movement toward the kitchen. 

_"Expelliarmus,"_ Harry yelled at the movement. Where upon a burst of feathers flew through the air. Harry was stunned to realize it had been a cushion from the couch that he had hexed. _If that was a cushion then where the hell…_

Harry saw a glint of movement from his left and then was slammed into the mantle of the fireplace. Alex had thrown a cushion he had rolled with into the air to distract him, and then moved in. Using his body, he had pinned Harry against the fireplace while using his left hand to grab Harry's right hand, his wand hand, and point it to the ceiling. With his left forearm and elbow across Harry's throat and elbow, he had placed his dagger casually on the right side of Harry's neck on the crease of it. A leering maniacal grin was etched on his face.

"You just fell for the oldest trick in the book. Were this for real, this blade," motioned with the dagger in his right hand, "would have sliced through your larynx and jugular vein. You wouldn't be able to do any spells for you haven't reached the stage where you can do spells without wands or words, as your larynx and voice box next to it would be open for all to see and your wand is pointed at the ceiling. At the same time, blood from your jugular vein would be going down your main airway into your lungs, ensuring that your would drown in your own blood."

During his whole speech, Uncle Alex sounded as though he were ordering a cup of tea. He pulled his blade back and continued speaking

"Not all the supporters of the Dark Lord use magic alone. Some use both; others use just blades and clubs. Giants, and vampires have human like cunning and use human weapons. Wands can break. There will come times when your only chance at survival comes not in how much you know of spells and magic, but of brute force and animal violence. Muggle fighting with blade and firearm may be the difference between going to your woman and a warm bed and fucking her silly, or being placed in a shallow grave in the middle of fucking nowhere. You understand me, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

Alex released Harry, sheathed his blade in a scabbard strapped to his right forearm, and sat back down on the sofa before he spoke again.

"The training is secondary, however, to what my main purpose of having you in my charge is. Can you hazard a stab at what that might be?"

Harry shook his head as he massaged his shoulder where he had been slammed. While he wouldn't be spending his summer with the Dursleys (well almost all of them as Dudley it seemed would be tagging along with him), it also wouldn't be with what was the closet thing to a family he had. That, and the fact he felt he had made an ass out of himself made sure he wasn't in a mood for talking

Alex looked like he was going to say something but was interrupted when Linda walked in with a tray filled with a pot of tea and china, and stared disapprovingly at the mess of feathers in the kitchen hallway. Dudley followed holding a steaming cup and saucer.

After pouring a cup, Alex spoke once more, "Anyhow before I go on, Harry why don't you go with Linda and ensure that your owl is comfortable. I guarantee you she will take good care of her. I also have a few words for my other nephew here." 

Linda got up and motioned for Harry to follow her. Harry picked up Hedwig in her cage and her bag of owl treats and followed her up to the second floor where one of the rooms was an owlery. There, Harry counted two owls, and one of the big colorful birds Sirius used to send messages to him with.

"Give her here, I'll take good care of her." Indeed, that seemed to be quite the case as Hedwig seemed happy near her as Linda gave her an owl treat and refilled her water dish.

Harry, overcome by his curiosity, asked Linda, "Are you my uncle's wife?"

Linda, still playing with Hedwig, laughed and replied, "Now if that was so I'd have been called your aunt and not his housekeeper wouldn't it?" 

"No, " she continued, "he and I are close friends, and loves me as such, but he isn't and doesn't want to be married."

Harry still wasn't done, "So, uh, are you a witch? You know, as in the Hogwarts…"

"…School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Yes, a member of House Hufflepuff as a matter of fact. How about you? Gryffindor?"

Harry nodded and was about to ask what was going on when Uncle Alex started yelling, "Right then, I'll get changed and then we can begin our way to Wales. Harry, get down here and wait a bit with Dudley. After that, we got about a good hour's drive then a plane ride for an hour, followed by another drive. So relax, lads, for where you're going, you won't relax for a long time."

Harry quickly said bye to Linda and Hedwig and headed downstairs which was when he remembered Ron's letter. "Excuse me, Uncle?" Alex who had been about to run up the stairs stopped and looked at him. Harry briefly explained Ron's letter and how a friend of his (he didn't mention it was Ginny, for even in the brief time he had met his uncle he had a gut instinct that he would be ribbed mercilessly were to hear of it) was going to visit him on Wednesday.

Alex nodded and went over to the fireplace. Opening a box on the mantle, he showed it to Harry. It was full of a black, finely ground powder. "It's Floo powder, know how to use it?" Harry shook his head, though he admitted to seeing it used before.

"Right, there are two kinds. The kind you see here is for sending people messages, a lot like a wizard's telephone. A more roughly ground powder is used for transportation and then only along a magically linked network. Simply take a handful and toss it into the fireplace while calling out the name of the place, person, or whatever you wish to contact." Alex laughed, "One good thing with this method is you get very few wrong numbers, though one handful of powder gives a connection for about five minutes so make whatever your message is fast and sweet. Clear?"

Harry nodded as his uncle handed him the box and picked his wand off of the mantle.

"Another thing Harry, give me your wand I'll keep it safe until we come back here." 

After handing it over to him, Alex bounded up the stairs.

Taking a handful of the powder, he threw it on to the fire as he spoke, "Weasley's" A small green fire appeared, and an image of the Weasley living room appeared. Harry spoke, "Uh, hello? Ron? Ginny? Mrs. Weasly"

The smiling, balding face of Mr. Arthur Weasley appeared. "Hello Harry, I'm surprised you'd be calling on us using floo. Molly took Ron, Ginny, and the boys over to St. Mungo's to see a friend of hers in the hospital. I just got back home from work. Anything you need?"

Harry smiled weakly and replied, "No, thank you, sir, but it's just that I called to let you know…" and proceeded to quickly fill him on what had happened. Mr. Weasley frowned, but then brightened up when he heard Wales. "Wales is it? Then we just may meet as my son Charlie is getting transferred from Transylvania to Wales sometime next month. Though Molly and Ginny will be quite disappointed at not being able to see you for a bit. I can just hear the abuse from Molly now." Arthur started mimicking the voice of his wife Molly, "_What do you mean we can't visit Harry? Are those bastard muggles he has for an aunt and uncle forcing him to not see us?_"

 Harry laughed and replied, "Sorry about that, but until about an hour ago I thought the only relations I had were Aunt Petunia and my godfather Sirius Black and now to have an uncle…" 

"You said uncle, you mean Alex Evans? The Flashman?"

"I didn't know that was what he was called but he claimed to have quit using magic since he was 19 and only started again recently because Dumbledore asked him to."

Arthur nodded, "I was wondering why his request to come back to the Wizard world came in last month. After all, when he quit…"

Alex called, "We are getting ready to leave Harry so make it quick."

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley but I have to leave. Could you tell Mrs. Weasley and everyone else, Ron and Ginny and everyone else I miss them?"

Arthur smiled, "Don't worry Harry, we think of you as family but I'll be sure to tell them none the less. You take care now you hear?"

"Yes sir and goodbye."

"Bye, Harry."

With that the image of Arthur Weasley vanished. Dudley had been watching the whole scene with a bit of awe, just as Alex, this time wearing a pair of blue trousers, blue shirt, and carrying a large green military Bergen came down the stairs and asked, "Ready?" Dudley and Harry nodded, as Alex quickly kissed Linda goodbye and led them to the Land Rover. They got in and settled down as Alex took the driver's seat and pulled out, waving at the figure of Linda standing in the doorway. Harry, who had the shotgun seat, leaned it back while Dudley lay back on the rear seats.

As they drove, he asked the boys, "You lads listen to much music?" Harry shook his head while Dudley merely shrugged. Alex sighed, and said, "I hope you bastards lighten up for a sense of humor at life's little cruelties can really be a good gift. Anyhow, I hope you like listening to U2." With that he pushed in a tape cassette he had laying down near the radio and pushed PLAY. The song _Helter Skelter_ came on loudly, but not too much as Alex seemed to have the knack of positioning anything just so perfectly, even music volume so that nobody felt it was either too loud or too soft. Alex seemed to enjoy as he joined in the singing.

"_You get to the bottom you get back to the top!"_ he enthusiastically sang, patting his hands on the rim of the steering wheel with the tune. Harry couldn't help but grin.

After a while, Alex rolled down his window and pulled a silver case out of his pocket. Opening it on the steering wheel, he pulled out a thin cigar, the kind Harry had seen in old Clint Eastward westerns. Putting it in his mouth, he then closed the case and put it back in his pocket. When his hand came out, it came out with a wooden match which he struck on the steering wheel and used it light his cigar.

Lightly puffing it, he asked, "Any of you lads smoke? If you want, you can have one drag just so you can try it and not get too curious of tobacco." With that he passed it to Harry, who took one drag, coughed, and handed it to Dudley, who took a drag, didn't cough, and passed it on. 

Alex took the cigar and placed it on his lips and spoke to Harry, "All things considered, I'm surprised you haven't taken up smoking and drinking yet, Harry. Like Dudley back there."

Harry, who had been cultivating an interest in the darkened streets of London and countryside that they passed through as they drove, stared directly at his uncle and asked, "What do you mean?"

Alex continued smoking, "The dreams at night, the ones where you see that one kid, Diggory right? The ones where he gets zapped; the way it happened at the Triwizard Tournament. The dreams where you wake up shaking and sweating and feeling like shit afterwards. Am I right so far?"

Harry was shocked that he could see into him so easily. "How do you know so much? Did Dumbeldore tell you about what happened?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah, plus it helped that that idiot of a Minister of Magic Cornelius Dunce Cap Fudge had the final trial recorded using wizard film cameras. I saw everything you saw, and heard everything you heard and said up until that port key got you."

Harry was lost for words. He wanted so badly the last couple of days to tell someone about them, but now that he had the chance he didn't know what to say.

Alex must have been reading his mind as he smoked. "I know how you feel. What you're going through is the beginning stage of what used to be called battle fatigue. Now it's known as post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD in muggle speak. It's a deadly beast that you'll have to face a long time, but it can be beaten and imprisoned. Dumbledore knew you'd be going through it after the Triwizard Tournament and asked me to help you out; a special job for him."

Alex paused and asked, "You want to hear my story?"

Harry nodded.


	5. Chapter V: A Soldier's Tale

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

Chapter V: A Soldier's Tale 

Alex took a drag and began.

"Well, after I left the wizard world for reasons you don't need to know of right now, and turned in my wand and told that bastard Fudge I'd keep my knowledge of the wizard world a secret, I joined the Army. Went through my initial training at the School of Infantry, and got posted to the Parachute Regiment at Aldershot, and got to learn how to jump out of perfectly good airplanes. Couple months later, I found myself carrying a bergen weighing around a billion odd kilos and shivering and carrying an L1A1 rifle on somewhat godforsaken island in the South Atlantic called East Falkland."

Alex paused taking a deep drag and flick some ash into the car's ashtray.

"Then came Goose Green. I remember that battle all right. We were cold, out-numbered two to one when we should have outnumbered them three to one as the book said we should have fore we even thought of attacking them, artillery wasn't worth a fuck, the bastards were dug in, _and _had air support. The gutless bastards should have filleted us, but we instead we had a rough bit in which Lt. Col. Jones bought it. Me, all I remember was after we ditched our bergens it was like training at the Salisbury Plain. Take cover, provide cover fire, throw smoke, rush and open fire again, and then wait until someone with a Carl Gustav blasted a bunker so we could move forward a bit more. The difference being, of course, that those were real bullets flying through the air and real people, mates of mine, getting hit and killed."

"Was that how you got hit in the knees? Storming a trench." That was Dudley, who was listening with rapt attention along with Harry.

"That was the first time I got hit and it was really a scratch. We had just cleared out this one trench and were bringing in Colonel Jones' body when this one Argentine machine gunner that we thought was dead came back alive. I was tired and had sat down parallel to the gunner to have a smoke when I saw him move. As I got up, thinking he was surrendering he fired a two rounds before the gun jammed, and both of them just went through my legs, just scratching them really. Funny thing was, after I got them dressed at the aid station, they sent a message home saying I'd been hurt when all I had was a scratch, then the next time I got hit, and was really hurting they didn't send a damn thing home."

Alex took another drag, this time releasing the smoke after a few minutes. Flicking ash into the tray, he continued. 

"Next time I got hit was at a place called Wireless Ridge, one of the last battles before the war ended. Now, I don't really remember much of that battle except that it was rather like Goose Green, only we were fighting up hill instead of over open ground. Now, my wounding was strange for me and my mates Dick Longbottom, Nicky Totensham, and Tommy Cooper were going back for ammo when I noticed this one machine gun pit we overran earlier and the damn gun started tracking us. Since, I was farthest ahead and the closet to it, I turned and yelled 'GUN!' or some such shit. I don't remember much afterwards for something knocked me to my face and the next thing I see is Nicky telling me 'fucking hang in there mate, hang in there'. Turns out Dick, who had been tail end Charlie of our little group had seen the burst and ran behind the position and cracked the fucker's head in with the butt of his rifle. Me, turns out the bastard had fired low enough that it smashed my left knee to pieces while my right was shot off and hanging on by a chunk of ligament. Nicky and Tommy put field dressings on my legs, stuck in a catheter and started me on a bag of Ringer's solution Tommy had in this medic's bag he had stolen. They then carried me the three klicks back to the Aid Station, where the bonesaws managed to patch me up and in four months I was as good as new."

He grinned crookedly, "Well, as good as you can get with one kneecap made of stainless steel and six pins in the other."

"As for my eye," he continued, "I lost that a couple of months after the Inniskilling bombing. I had gone to visit Nicky and Tommy and some other mates of mine from 2nd Para who were manning this checkpoint near Crossmaglen, in southern Armagh. We'd been chatting with Nicky calling me a Jack Pudding and having a good time with this case of Fosters I had stolen from the Officer's Mess at Bessbrook when their section was called over by this Royal Ulster Constabulary cop who had just drawn his Browning on this young pimply kid in a black Volvo. He was yelling at him to get the fuck out of the car, and Nicky and Tommy and Drew Costello and Tim Burke all went running to surround it. Me, I had run over to my Land Rover to call in the situation and it looked all right at first. The kid it seemed had a gun in a shoulder rig but had given up once the copper shoved a Browning in his face."

Another drag, another flicker of ash.

"Anyhow, it looked all right at first as the lads had the drop on him. Then Nicky opened the trunk. For you see lads, the car was rigged and not even that kid knew about it. Turns out later the Provo bastards were trying to have a follow-up after that bit in Inniskilling. By detonating at our little outpost, we may have saved some lives. Small help though when the Volvo went up, taking the whole damn section with my friends, the cop and the terrorist in this bastard of an explosion. Plus my eye, but that wasn't much of a loss."

Alex's eyes by now had a distant vacant look, as though he were searching through the vast filing cabinets that made up the memory of a person; the cabinets through which he searching being the ones in which one rarely if ever opens.

"When I sleep, I still see that machine gun firing, only this time the rounds hit elsewhere and I die. I still see the machine gun cutting me in half like a log. I still see," his voiced became hard-edged, "one of my best friends opening the trunk of a black Volvo and then just vanishing. All they found of him afterwards being part of his torso with his identity discs on it."

By now, his cigar had almost reached his fingertips. Taking a last drag, he stamped it out on to the ashtray. He looked at Harry.

"For the years since it happened, I've had to deal with the dreams, as well as the guilt of that incident, and others where I made it back, while my mates, people whom I'd drunk a beer or two with were six feet under dirt."


	6. Chapter VI: Old Friends, New Experiences

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

**Chapter VI: Old Friends, New Experiences**

The road on which they had been driving started to come to an end as they approached what looked like a small airfield with a gate consisting of a guardhouse and crossbar. Slowing down, Alex pulled out a small leather folder as a man wearing British army camouflage uniform came up and curtly demanded identification. 

After examining it while a second soldier watched the Land Rover, the sentry handed the folder back, and raised the crossbar. Alex then drove down the road and turned on to the tarmac of a small airfield, and eventually stopped besides a small hanger. Getting out, he picked up his bergen and motioned for the boys to do like wise. Bags on their shoulders the two followed their uncle into the hangar, where Alex seemed to know the pilot.

"Oi, Alex, what you said you was going to Dwryyn Camp, right?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah, you think you can take us?"

The pilot snorted, "Take you? Shit, I could take your whole bloody family! All they got me doing is flying in some bloody lobsters for the Officer's Mess." He stared impatiently, "Come on! Get in!"

With that, the trio boarded the plane, and strapped themselves in as the plane began moving out the hangar and began take-off procedures. Soon after it began moving down the runway it was in the air cruising to the west.

This had been the first time Harry had been in an airplane and had found it to be a less thrilling then flying via broomstick. Dudley was still quiet and was gazing out into the night sky. 

Alex had taken a seat across from Harry, and now spoke, "Well, lad, I've told you my tale tell me yours."

Harry looked at him, "I thought you said you had the records and…"

"Those are records, I want to hear it in your words, for that is an angle of this picture I don't have."

So Harry spoke. He told Alex of how he hadn't wanted the attention of the Triwizard Tournament, of how he had nearly destroyed the best friendship he had had, of the quidditch matches and how he had felt like he was playing second string compared to Cedric and of the total hatred and bitterness he had felt as it appeared Cedric was going to win, and the guilt afterwards, that he had been the one who got Cedric killed. For once, Harry felt the burden he had lift ever so slightly as he poured out what he had had to keep locked up come out.

Alex listened impassively before reaching into his jacket and tossing Harry a silver flask emblazoned with the regimental insignia of the Parachute Regiment. "Take a drink, lad. You need it." Harry unscrewed the cap and took a cautious sip. It was a bitter, smoky taste but he liked. Dudley had listened wide-eye to his story and looked, Harry thought disbelievingly, as though he sympathized with him. Harry wondered if he was one of those people who got slushed at the mere scent of alcohol.

Alex asked Harry, "Tell me Harry, were you and this Diggory fucking the same woman?"

Harry bolted up, "What do you mean?"

"Seems simple enough. Were you fucking the same bird as Diggory? Or trying to anyhow?"

Harry shook his head.

  
Alex grinned, "Well then, let me explain my reasoning and you can tell me if I'm wrong or not. When I listened to that little exchange between you and Diggory before the portkey, you sounded bitter. I've heard bitterness, and can tell what the cause of that bitterness is. Looking at the events that happened before, it meant either you were still pissed at him over the quidditch match that you lost, or there was something else."

Harry interrupted, "Yeah, I suppose I was still bitter over the quidditch match in my third…"

"Bullshit lad. You've got much too many brains to be too crushed over such a trivial event. I investigated a bit and here is what I found out. Ced Diggory listed his date for the Yule Ball a week or so before you, and it was Cho Chang. You didn't list one until several days before and it was a bird named Parvati Patil. Coincidence? I think not."

Alex leaned forward. "You were sweet on this Cho weren't ye?"

Harry was stunned and blurted, "Yes, but how…"

"Simple lad, I know for that is why I'm still here alive and not claiming a piece of soil to be forever British. Most people glance, I look, I read people like a book. With you, all I needed was a bit of investigation through Dumbeldore, and I had your problems pegged."

Alex leaned back into the webbing seats of the plane.

"You feel guilty and bitter, thinking that by wishing him ill you, in a way, killed him indirectly. You felt as though he was an enemy of sorts, beating you at every thing it seemed. Do tell me if I'm wrong?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting himself to speak nodded.

Alex continued, "Those feelings of hate later turned to guilt when events which you couldn't even imagine happened, resulting in his death. Guilt and trauma are two root causes of PTSD, and both have happened to you. Want to know how to fight it?"

Harry nodded. 

"There are four ways of fighting the Beast as I call it. One, hard drink, for it calms the nerves in the short term, yet if taken in too much at too often, will fuck you up just as badly. The second is a good smoke, my cigars for example. Same advantages and disadvantages as the booze, only difference being a good smoke can also help you think things through. Number three is sex in one form or the other, be it fucking a high-class call girl, or whacking off at the cover of _Cosmopolitan_. Something amusing, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he laughed slightly, "Yeah, I know what you're saying but I've never done any of it. I suppose it's too hard when you have Peeves the fucking ghost bursting in on you and telling the whole school what you're up to."

Alex looked concerned, "Not even…" He made a horizontal pumping motion with his right hand.

Harry shook his head.

Alex continued, "Anyhow, the final method is hard work. And that," he stared Harry straight in the eyes, "is what you'll be doing a lot of in the next six weeks."

                                                            *          *          *

Within an hour, the plane was landing on a small concrete strip located in a narrow valley in the mountains of Wales. As the small plane came to a stop, Alex got up and motioned for Harry and Dudley to follow him. He opened the rear door and threw his pack out, then jumped out after it. The boys followed him as an open topped Land Rover came speeding onto the tarmac and stopped besides them.

The driver was a lean, black-haired man who looked to be of the same age as Uncle Alex. He wore an Army camouflage trousers over black boots with a maroon beret covering a head of hair that looked closely cropped so that the skin could be seen on the sides. On the upper arms of the green woolen jersey he had three white chevrons pointed down. In the passenger seat huddled a shorter figure that Harry couldn't really make out other then the fact that he (Harry assumed it was male since it looked flat-chested) wore the same uniform as the driver only that his hat was a soft-billed cap instead of a beret.

The driver stopped the car and walked with an easy confident stride towards them. Stopping he looked at them, turned to Alex, and saluted, "Captain Alexander Evans?"

Alex, wearing a black leather coat and otherwise definitely not in uniform, returned the salute and spoke, "Sergeant Richard Longbottom?"

The two stared at each other then broke out laughing as they embraced. Longbottom broke away and spoke first, "You bloody Jack Pudding! I was wondering when you'd be showing up." 

Alex replied, "Aye, caught the lobster flight out of Delta 290, Dick. Which reminds me…" He turned to the cockpit window of the plane they had flown in on. Tapping it, the pilot opened it and asked, "What?"  Handing him the keys of his Land Rover, Alex told him to take care of his car or else he would discover the joys of flying a Beaver minus a few fingers and his genitals. The pilot laughed and made a rude gesture with his fore and middle fingers.

Dick laughed too, and then motioned them to the Land Rover. As he did so, he spoke, "Let me introduce you to my nephew Neville Longbottom, who will be in your section once we get to the barracks. Alex, you didn't introduce me to your…"

"Nephews, Dick." Alex replied, "The rather chubby one, for now anyhow, is Dudley Dursley, and the shaggy-haired one with the lighting bolt scar on his head is Harry Potter."

Harry was genuinely shocked now. Of all the things that could have happened, this was the most unexpected, ranking up there with the recent thawing out of sorts with Dudley. Neville Longbottom went to Hogwarts with Harry, and was like him a Gryffindor. Yet he was also the most clumsy and forgetful boy to ever set foot in it's halls and had suffered uncountable mishaps and disasters during the last four years he had been there. 

"Hello, Harry," Neville asked rather timidly. 

"Hello Neville. What are you doing here?"

"For the same reason you are Harry; the Boy Who Lived. To train" This was Dick speaking.

"You see Harry, I'm a squib and this summer I decided to help my nephew out once I talked to him and heard a little of his disasters. Then, my old friend Alex calls me from Belize and tells me he's coming back to help out _his _nephew, so I get to thinking and find out about this little used Ministry of Defense program for juvenile delinquents to spend time in a regimented, disciplined atmosphere and I figured 'Why not have both his and my nephew spend time reordering their lives?' It sounded smashing so we fixed it up for Neville, you and Dudley over there would be with one of the toughest damn units in the British Army; my own platoon, the Second, in Bravo Company of 2nd Battalion, the Parachute Regiment."

Harry decided to keep his mouth shut, and the silence was broken as they traveled from the airstrip and through the base by Dudley.

"Will we be getting uniforms as well, sir?" This was the first time Harry had heard him use the word before out of respect (or was it fear?). 

Alex turned around and replied, "You will. You'll learn how to wear it, take pride in it, hell," he laughed, "maybe you'll even want to serve the Queen by the time we're done with you." They drove for several more minutes before stopping in front of three large, two-story building. A sign with the Parachute Regiment insignia had the words beneath it of "B Company, 2nd Parachute Battalion, Parachute Regiment".  Alex told them, "Right, out of the car, and get in a straight line side by side."

They did so and Alex explained to them the basic movements of Right, Left, and About Turn. After that, he marched them insides to an office marked, "Company Quartermaster Sergeant" and banged on it. Out came forth a diminutive man wearing glasses and an expression Harry thought looked equal to that of a few security trolls he had seen. 

Alex after nodding a greeting handed the man a piece of paper he had in his coat. The man, who had been obviously working on paperwork judging by the stack of forms near a typewriter from what Harry could see of his office, grunted and curtly told the boys to follow him into a separate room where there were three sets of uniforms and assorted gear already waiting. "Try on the boots, trousers, shirts and jackets. The last three are in camouflage colors," the quartermaster curtly ordered. The boys hurriedly did so and found that the uniforms they had been issued fit them rather well, though a bit towards the loose side. Alex spoke, "Good, the school sizes me and Dick received from your schools are right on the money. How the boots and shoes fit?" He was referring to the two pair of boots and one pair of oxford style lace-up shoes they had. They too, the boys discovered fit comfortably. Dick explained, "One of the first lessons you learn of the infantryman's trade is that good, well-fitting, boots are as important to you as a good rifle or a good cunt. Now, toss, not pack, your gear into those green duffel bags nearest you and follow me. You'll learn how to pack it appropriately soon enough."

They did so and followed him out towards a large room that reminded Harry of the Gryffindor common room. Here, a random grouping of battered and stained couches, and chairs surrounded a large TV and VCR whose plastic was chipped in one corner while an even worse looking pool table and table soccer table occupied another. The third corner had a large "white" (that may have been the original color but it appeared constant abuse and use had stained it more a permanent gray) refrigerator and freezer set while the fourth corner, the one nearest the door, a sinister looking man with sandy hair and an unsmiling, laconic face appeared to be interested in slowly honing a dagger. In the center of the room was a group of tables and more chairs, though at the moment all were looking at a…_Hey, that's a porn film isn't it?_ Harry thought as he stared at the large breasts and tanned nipples  that were moving on the screen. 

While his home life wasn't exactly ideal, he had seen plenty of pictures of the undressed female form, both by itself and being pleasured by men, from Dudley's rather large pornography collection and wasn't unduly shocked by what he was seeing. Indeed, he often wondered if he should have talked to Sirius about sex and women before, when he had a chance. Now, Harry was hunting in the dark. _Though what hunting I've done hasn't come close_, Harry thought wryly, _The closet I've come to seeing the undressed form of a girl in real life was when I played "doctor" as a boy with one of the local girls at Privet Drive who liked my scar, and also a few sly glances at the neckline and backside of Cho, Parvati Patil and a couple others  back at Hogwarts_.

Yet, his mind couldn't help but think of Gryffindor's common room as he watched the soldiers relaxing. Instead of Fred and George Weasley and the Creevey Brothers, this was a group of paras (the oldest looked like he was in his mid-thirties) that were cheering and hooting at the television as Harry saw a black-haired, gypsy-looking woman on the television wildly performing fellatio on some lucky bastard. The soldiers were wild in a muggle way as they drank bottles of Fosters lager like water, and made wise cracks of what was going on the screen.

"Oi, would look at that bird clean that bastard's barrel!"

"Jealous, Ed?"

"Yeah, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, that's what toilet paper and your right hand is for. Speaking of which, is Deacon done in the latrine yet?"

A raucous burst of laughter as the man on screen apparently climaxed too early and came all over the woman's face. The starlet grinned, and then swallowed some of the sperm that had gotten on her face, showing her tongue to the delight of the men watching her. Harry couldn't help but watch avidly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dudley and Neville both shared the same interest as he did.

"All right, turn that shit off I got some shit to announce." This was Dick Longbottom as the screen cut away to another woman, albeit a fully clothed one. Despite a few grumbles, the TV was shut off and all eyes were turned to him. A few of the older men waved at Alex, but all attention was turned to Dick Longbottom. __

"Right, you all know we were going to receive three young punks and turn them into hard bastards…"

"Aye, sarge, like we are?"

"Yeah Jenkins, now shut your mouth and pay attention. Those three over there," Dick pointed to the boys, "are the three we are to break and then remake." These boys were waved at and asked such things as, "So what got you caught to be here?" "We'll train you boys, hahahha!" "I hope you fucked your woman for you won't be getting any cunny here for a long time."

"All right, shut up and sit down. These young bastards will be trained by all of us in Second Platoon as we ourselves train. Speaking of which, with Second Lieutenant Roberts in the hospital, we won't be getting a replacement until he returns to active duty in about six weeks. Until then, yours truly," Longbottom made a mock bow to the ironic jeers and cheers of the audience, "shall be in command. In the meantime, these lads will be going through the usual Basic Entry routine, modified of course. It will be heavy in physical conditioning, land navigation, marksmanship, bayonet and unarmed combat drill, and squad and section tactics. The three instructors will be, and do kindly stand up when I call you, Tongue," A short, brown-haired man holding a Fosters can got and spoke, "Private Jed Tongue, 2nd Paras."

"Rooney"

A smiling Irishman with sandy, curly hair leaped up and spoke, "Private Michael Collins Rooney, 2nd Paras"

"And Ghost, who'll be head instructor. The rest of you may be called upon to help them, but these three will be in the tender care of Rooney, Tongue and Ghost." With this, the villainous looking man whose sole interest had been sharpening his blade stood up and glowered at the boys, "Lance Corporal Tony Fletcher, 2nd Paras."

Dick took one last look around and spoke, "Right, now Tongue, go get the lads settled and teach them the basic movements, how to salute, you know the routine. As for the rest of you, you all remember Flash Evans?" They all nodded as Tongue came by and motioned them to the door. "Well, give the man a beer and turn the porn back on!" This brought resounding cheers as Alex grabbed a chair, turned it around and sat down as a Fosters was placed in his hand.

Harry followed Tongue as he led him and the rest to a barracks room that had two bunk beds, four footlockers, a desk, and a small closet. Tongue spoke, "Right, grab a bed for each of, though leave one of the top ones open as either me, Mike, or Ghost will stay with you each night you are here. After that, put on your uniforms and we'll begin."

Harry threw his kit on one of the top bunks as Neville and Dudley moved theirs on their bunks. Afterwards, they changed in silence and assembled in the hallway where they spent the next two hours with Tongue learning how to put on their uniforms, individual drill (how to stand at attention, rest, saluting, etc.), proper care of their kit, and how to put together their field gear. It was around midnight before Tongue called it a night and told them to get some sleep. "Sleep," Tongue explained, "will become as precious to you as food or drink in time. The latrine is across the hall if you need it. Good night." 

Harry soon realized the truth of it for after brushing his teeth and stripping to his underwear he collapsed into sleep the instant he laid his head on the pillow.

He didn't realize that was the first dreamless sleep he had had since summer break began.

                                                            *          *          *

"WAKE UP YOU FUCKING SON OF A WHORE! YOU THINK THE QUEEN PAYS YOUR ARSE TO SLEEP!!"

A push into the mattress threw him out of his bed, but not hard enough so that he slammed, landing on his feet like a cat instead. Still drowsy, he felt a palm slam in the small of his back straightening him out. Remembering Tongue's advice, he came to the position of attention (back and head straight, hands cupped with thumb running along seam of trousers, and eyes staring into infinity) and saw in his vision a para he didn't know and his ubiquitous red beret. Neville and Dudley, Harry saw through his peripheral vision, likewise had similar men in front of them either glaring or shouting.

"That's right, keep staring forward. Now, your name, scum!"

"Harry Potter, Sir!"

"What is that, I must be going deaf in my old age, YOUR NAME AND SAY IT AS THOUGH YOU HAVE BALLS AND NOT A CUNT!"

"SIR, HARRY POTTER, SIR"

"Well, Potter, you will get dressed in three minutes, and fall out onto the grassy ground in front of the barracks as you are either dressed or the time is up. Whichever comes first. From henceforth, the grassy ground is known as the parade ground. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, POTTER!?" 

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR POTTER? AN INVITATION FROM THE FUCKING PRINCE OF FUCKING WALES? MOVE YOUR ARSE! MOVE! MOVE!" 

With that Harry hurriedly began putting on his uniform. He couldn't help but notice that Dudley was shaking while Neville had changed a strange pale color as they too were changing.

In the back of Harry's mind, the summer break was starting to look like it could go on for an incredibly long time.


	7. Chapter VII: Turner's Drag

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

Another note I feel should add is that I haven't done any orienteering for a while and since land navigation is a very perishable skill, please forgive any errors that are noticeable.

Chapter VII: Turner's Drag 

The time went faster then Harry imagined it could, and as the end of the fourth week approached, he felt that he would miss the life. Almost a month had passed since he had arrived. During that time, without letters from Hermione and Ron and others to pass the time, he had noticed changes in Neville, Dudley, and even in himself. Harry and Neville both took to the soldiering life as though they were born to it, and Harry was considering Neville as good a friend as Ron. Even his relations with Dudley were better as while neither talked to each other much, Harry felt as though Dudley had a grudging respect for him. He knew that was the case with him.

The usual day for them began at 0500 when they roused out of their beds by Ghost, Rooney, and Tongue (occasionally there were other people from the platoon involved) via a blistering barrage of noise and profanity. Following a 5 minute session where they changed into Combat uniform (temperate pattern camouflage with black boots and soft caps) they began the day with a rousing hour of calisthenetics followed by a 4 kilometer (later built up to 6 and then 8 kilometers, with calisthenetics being varied from a full hour to thirty minutes depending on much they had to run) run in the mountains surrounding the base. Following this, they were given thirty minutes to wash, change into clean uniforms, and only then were they marched to breakfast.

At 0800, they were marched back to barracks where they proceeded to help police (clean or shine in other words) the barracks rooms and latrines so that by 0900, the first classes would begin. These would alternate from either marksmanship or unarmed combat, and would last for three hours. Marksmanship classes were held at the weapons ranges while unarmed combat was held at the parade ground. 

 On the weapons ranges, Neville and Dudley were tied on who would be the best shot with the L1A1 and SA-80 assault rifles they had been using in training while Harry had shown that he was the master of the Browning HP pistol that they were taught to use. He was also quite good with the other weapons, but the Browning seemed a natural extension of his body. Uncle Alex was so impressed he started training on Harry using techniques he said were used by police and undercover operatives, which were mostly techniques on how to accurately draw and shoot one's weapons no matter what the circumstances. 

As for unarmed combat and bayonet drill, all three had shown themselves adept at fighting fast, brutally, and efficiently. Jugular vein, larynx, the subclavian artery, the heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, testicles, the ears…All three learned how to use their hands, feet, nails, teeth, and forehead to maim or kill their opponent on those areas. Dudley soon earned the nickname of Bull from the men of second platoon for his use of strength and brute force during unarmed combat training. Harry relied on dirty tricks and speed in his combat, while Neville seemed to use a combination of Harry and Dudley's styles. 

Following a break for tea, they continued on land navigation, which proved to be one of the easiest to learn, yet was constantly put to the test as the afternoons consisted of a 10 kilometer road march into the mountains, hiking back using the land navigation techniques they had learned by hitting waypoints that they had been given, and then ending it all on a timed obstacle course. Throughout the course of this, Harry and the boys were wearing belt kit (140 rounds of 7.62 mm blanks in 7 20-round magazines in pouches, 2 1-liter canteens, 2 field dressings, bayonet with scabbard, compass and map, protective mask, and 4 dummy grenades), combat uniform with boots and helmet, and carrying a 5-kilo L1A1 rifle.

Afterwards, they proceed to eat dinner, followed by an hour of instruction on a military topic that was felt to be of use to the boys. Be it how to establish an ambush, call in artillery fires and air strikes, first aid, tracking (two of the men in platoon were former South African Recce Commandos, and another was a Bushman who had tagged along after Namibia received independence, and were the best tutors to the boys in the fine arts of tracking), the boys were kept busy until 1700. They then had to clean up (their rifles, then themselves, and only afterwards their laundry), and were given more instruction, this time over drill and other military topics so that by lights out at 2200 hours, the boys usually crashed out as soon as their heads touched their pillows.

Now, being in such close quarters to each other, a sort of camaraderie had developed between them. Or rather had been forced on them by the men of 2nd Platoon. One time, Neville had dropped his rifle into the mud and even though Harry and Dudley had kept their weapons cleaned, they had been ordered to get out _their_ cleaning kits as well and give their own weapons a cleaning. Then there had been the time they had been running the morning run and Neville and Harry had left Dudley gasping behind them, Fletcher had stopped them and acidly informed them that they were to go back and help their mate complete the run. Either that or they could have the option of running the course again, this time with each of them carrying the equivalent weight of Dudley and his gear. Needless to say, they had gone back and carried him back between them. 

From then on, no matter what the situation was, they all looked out for each other.

                                                            *          *          *

Harry laced up his black combat boots and grabbed his drill cap from off his bunk. The day was a Sunday, and Tongue and Rooney had been hinting at something big happening. Whatever it was, it was important enough that instead of the usual morning conditioning, they had been allowed to sleep until 0730, wash and then brought to breakfast at 0830. They had then been told after breakfast to prepare to be gone for at least a day, which meant they would have to pack their bergens (about 18 kilograms worth of spare uniform, additional simulated ammunition, two days rations, one two-liter canteen, sleeping bag, ground pad, binoculars, night vision goggles, miscellaneous articles needed to keep a man going in the field, and an orange box that was sealed and they had been told only to open in the event of a real emergency when they were training in the field). This, together with a belt kit of another 15 kilograms, meant that they would be packing a load of 33 kilograms, about 75 lbs (the wizard world still used the older system and Harry was quite familiar with it compared with other students his age in Britain). In Harry's case this was almost three-fourths of his body weight added on and Harry expected that even though he was in splendid shape after the conditioning he had gone through, he expected that today was going to be a real bastard.

Putting on his cap, he grabbed his belt kit and bergen and ran out the door where Dudley, Neville, and himself lined up as Rooney, Fletcher, and Tongue gave inspected them on the parade ground. Alex and Dick were also out there as they waited for the inspection to be completed so they could give instructions on what the day's event was. Both were wearing British camouflage uniforms, though they also were wearing the older World War II style paratrooper smocks with their red berets.

The inspection went without a hitch as after almost a month under the training of the Paras, as well as from helpful tips offered by the veterans, had ensured that they learned much of the infantryman's trade. Loose equipment were taped, extra foam padding (like that used in their ground pad) was placed on their bergens and bergen frames to cut down and noise and provide comfort, and all three carried candy bars with their belt kits (already opened and wrapped in saran wrap to prevent noise) to provide extra energy on their road march. 

After the inspection, Tongue (who, Harry had found out weeks earlier, was also the platoon armourer and head of the arms room) handed out their L1A1 rifles. Alex and Dick then walked up and told them to sit and circle around. Alex laid out a 1:50,000 scale map of the area and proceeded to explain. "Right, today you're going to go through what we in 2nd Paras call Turner's Drag. It is a 40-kilometer land navigation exercise that is to be completed with in 20 hours, or rather meaning you'll have to maintain a speed of 2 klicks an hour. Not a hard speed you're thinking right? Wrong, for during this course you are to hit a total of 8 separate checkpoints," he handed Harry a list of eight-digit coordinates, and continued, "the ground you'll be traversing will be mountainous and otherwise rough, you are NOT to abandon any of your equipment, and finally," Alex grinned feral, "sometime during the exercise you will be hunted by Army Air Corps helicopters and should you be caught, you'll have to redo the exercise. Only at that time you'll be given more weight to carry and an even shorter time complete the march in. Not to mention whatever treatment they feel like giving you as a Prisoner of War. Caught being when they land grunts on the ground and drag you down like animals."

"In other words," Dick chimed in, "Don't fucking get caught. Any questions?"

Neville raised his hand, "Why is it called Turner's Drag?"

Alex replied, "During World War II, our battalion attacked a German airfield in North Africa, and during the retreat back to friendly lines, a section of four Paras under Sergeant Jack Turner was separated and had to march back over mountainous terrain, while being hunted by German air and ground units. It was no small feat that all of them made it back as it turned out later a full brigade of Italian and German troops backed by a full air-wing of Me-109s were hunting them. Anyhow, all of them made it back and since then it has been something of a battalion tradition to have new recruits or anyone who isn't too keen on land nav to be run through our little test."

"Any other questions? Otherwise you have 10 minutes until the 1000 start time with your starting point, the base here, at coordinates…" he gave them the coordinates.

There were none, so Harry, Neville, and Dudley got around and plotted out the points using a military protractor and pencil (a military protractor is square piece of plastic used to plot positions on a map, and while using a GPS system is easier to learn to use and minutely more accurate, older soldiers prefer the map and compass method as it far lighter, and if used properly just as accurate and soldier-proof). Looking at the pattern, it appeared as though a horseshoe pattern had been established for them as it 20 kilometers to their farthest point, and another 20 back. The course would take them over mostly hilly terrain, though it didn't appear to be too steep as there weren't any sheer heights or depressions to be navigated.

Eight minutes later, they were at the gate at the base, getting their packs comfortable while Harry oriented the map and their group towards the first of the waypoints using the compass and the starting point on the map. Once they had oriented themselves using the start point, Harry led the group in single file with himself at point while Dudley was tail end Charlie on their patrol. 

They followed the road out of the base about 1 kilometer, then it turned up a ridge as their course took them over several hills before they reached their first checkpoint a top a rock strewn spur. Checkpoint number one proved to be a covered red tin can with the emplaced a top of rock. Inside proved to be a tan envelope with the instructions labeled on it to be not opened. Reorienting themselves after a brief stop for water and a candy bar, they marched another eight kilometers for their next checkpoint, stopping every 10 minutes (or roughly 1000 meters as Harry's pace count was roughly 105 paces, or meters, per minute) to make sure they were still oriented correctly.  Again, it was another red tin can though this time there were duplicate cans scattered 15 meters north, 12 east, and 18 west of the first one they had seen. 

The whole purpose behind this was to ensure that the people going through the course knew what they were doing, and obviously taking the wrong envelope from the wrong can was an excellent way to test a person's knowledge of navigation. With the spacing more then 10 meters of each other (using the eight digit coordinate system, one could be accurate within 10 meters of a location), this ensured that it would be able to determine accurate location without extraordinary difficulty. 

Provided of course, they had been doing their job correctly. After examining their position on the map, and double-checked after shooting back azimuths to triangulate their current position, the group picked one of the cans, found an envelope, and continued marching to their next one, and the one after that for the next 4 hours.

                                                            *          *          *

It happened as they were following a trail on the side of a steep, granite mountain. Dudley had slung his rifle, and by now everyone was pretty tired as they had been marching since 1000 and it was now almost 1700, with only three minutes break at most when they reached a checkpoint. All in all, they had covered 15 kilometers over broken country carrying about seventy-five pounds worth of gear when the lightest amongst them was five foot six and weighed one hundred twenty pounds sopping wet. All in all, a pretty credible achievement since none of them could barely run a mile a month earlier in boots. 

They had passed their fifth checkpoint a kilometer back and were heading towards their sixth when Dudley tripped and almost fell off the mountain. If he had, it would have been a good 20-meter drop onto broken rocks that may very well have killed him had he not grabbed onto a dug-in rock at the last minute. Even still, he was fast losing his grip.

Harry heard the something behind and looked back to see only Dudley's hand ripping the side of the trail. Slinging his rifle, Harry ran, dropped over and grabbed one of Dudley's hands as it lost grip on the rock. Gasping, he tried to pull him up, but found that he too was being pulled down as Dudley's seventy-five pounds of gear, and his one hundred fifty pounds of weight were straining him. 

Harry was starting to get desperate, as though he was yelling for Neville, it didn't appear as though Neville could hear him as he was a good thirty meters away (they maintained ten meter intervals as they had been taught to ensure that were they ambushed, one machine gun burst wouldn't take out the whole patrol). _I'm going either going to die here with the disgusting asshole that is my cousin, or the mission will fail and all this fucking marching will for nothing_, Harry thought. If he had Dudley drop equipment, they were going to lose for they had been told to bring back everything they carried. Yet if he didn't, both of them were going to die, as Harry doubted if he could just let Dudley go and fall to his death, no matter how much he hated him.

It was then Harry had an idea. Looking straight into Dudley's eyes, he said, "I'm going to ask you to trust me. Will you?" Harry was grunting and both of his hands were fast griping one of Dudley's wrists while Dudley's other hand had gripped on to the sheer edge of the trail. Dudley, his face straining like Harry's to keep from falling, nodded his head. Harry grimaced, "All right, here goes. Try to push up when I pull all right?" With that, he leaned forward and quickly threw his left hand out from Dudley's arm and around and under his bergen. Straining and pulling, Harry managed to pull Dudley up enough using this new leverage so that his mid-chest was upon the edge and Dudley was able to swing the hand that had been on the edge on to the rock and haul himself up some more.

That was when Neville came running up and grabbed Dudley's other arm by the armpit and together with Harry, they managed to drag Dudley back on to the trail. 

Both Harry and Dudley were gasping for breath. It was a minute before any of them were able to speak. Dudley spoke first, and surprised Harry greatly.

"Harry?"

"What?" This was the first time Harry had been called by his name by his cousin without an insult somewhere.

"Thanks"

Harry merely waved it off as he pulled out his map and had them marching again towards checkpoint number six.

                                                            *          *          *

Three hours, and an additional two checkpoints later, it began to rain. High as they were in the mountains of Wales, the rain made the already cool weather (even in the summer-time) even more so, and as they were moving as fast as possible, the trio was soon soaked to the bone. By then, it was almost 2000, and while there was a half moon out, there was very little visibility as rain and fog set in. Harry had taken the earlier step of checking their bearing every 500 paces, and so it seemed to be paying off as they had hit all their checkpoints correctly. 

Yet, with limited visibility with rain and fog, Harry decided to call a halt as Neville spotted a small cropping of large rocks. One of them looked big enough for them to huddle under out of the rain, so Harry made up his mind and ordered a halt for thirty minutes as his ruthless use of only a few minutes for breaks, eating on the move, and a constant pace had ensured they would have about ten hours to complete the remaining distance.

Speaking quickly, they huddled underneath the rock out of the rain as Neville dug a small hole into the ground and placed some dry kindling and bits of moss he found into it. Harry pulled out a Zippo lighter he had been given by his uncle Alex the day they got there and a small fire was lit. Not taking any chances, Harry had taken out his poncho from his bergen and rigged it over the cave so that no one could possibly see any light from their small fire.

Neville by then had taken a canteen cup out and filled it up with water, cocoa and coffee powder, sugar, and dehydrated milk. Stirring it with a pencil he had with him, Neville then placed the cup into the small fire and huddle next to Harry and Dudley to gather what warmth they could from the fire, as well as from each other as they huddled around a fire the barely the size of a tea cup in silence.

Dudley spoke first, "Why the fuck did you save back there? You could have fucking left me and no one would have said a goddamn word?"

He laughed harshly, "After the last 14 years, I can't say I blame you."

Harry looked over at him. "I did it because if I left you out there to die, me and Neville here would be fucked. Sides, you think I want you on my conscience?"

Before Dudley could answer, Harry asked, "Answer _me_ this though, Why the fuck have you actually started treating my like a relation and not like a shit, the way you bastards have treated me 14 or 15 years?"

Dudley sighed and explained. When he had been in school the year before, it had gone on well as he apparently ruled the school with his clique of bullies. That is, until, another tougher, more ruthless bunch showed up and proceeded to beat the shit out of him. His 'friends' had promptly abandoned him, even going so far as to join in his beating and the humiliation afterwards as no one would help him as he was humiliated and embarrassed throughout the year.

"So you see, while that year was hell, I got to thinking…"

He paused, and looked at Harry, "The way those bastards treated me, I fucking deserved it. It was the same shitty way I'd treated you, the way my mum and dad treated you, and you were supposed to be family. The fact you knew something cool and I didn't merely made it worse as even when we were younger I knew you had something up your sleeve."

Dudley continued as Harry listened, seemingly stunned. "For what it is worth, I'm fucking sorry. I know it'll probably take me a bit to fix up a life's worth of shit, but…I can try."

Harry looked him straight in the eye and spoke, "All right…I've had stranger shit happen to me. Let's just get say fuck all to what happened in the past and start over fresh, make it a fresh round eh?"

He held out his hand.

Dudley grasped and shook it. "Yeah, lets."

It was then that Neville noticed that the drink they had been preparing was ready and passed it around. The mixture proved to be a strangely sweet but strong combination that warmed them up and prepared them for the next and final stage of their exercise. Dragging weighty and sodden packs back on to tired and aching shoulders, they took a moment to get their bearings, and marched off once more.

                                                            *          *          *

All day, they had been on the lookout for air patrols, and everyone had looked around to make sure they weren't being tracked. Now as they completed the eighth checkpoint and their thirtieth kilometer at 0100 hours, they became even more paranoid. Harry was especially so as with a mere ten kilometers to go before they sleep and rest (it was getting close to the 24 hour mark since he had last slept), anything could happen. Anything could go wrong as ever since checkpoint six he had had to rely on pace count and hoping that he was using the compass correctly, for if he wasn't then he wasn't even too sure if the last two checkpoints he had hit were correct. 

Every 500 meters, he checked his compass and made a mark on the route he had plotted Harry felt he was at. This was becoming harder and harder to accurately as all of them were chilled to the bone from the rain, and nearly exhausted after about 19 hours without sleep. Only the thought of failing in front of each other made, and the fact that who knew what sort of reward was waiting for them if they made it, kept them pushing on wards to the end. Each of them were had retreated into an inner shell, thinking beyond the pain, thinking of things that gave them that little extra energy and spirit to keep on going.

Five kilometers passed, Harry calling a break on a rocky spur that had enough large rocks and vegetation around it to provide cover should they have to hid as they had heard helicopters earlier in the fog and night. Now, it 0330 in the morning, and they had five kilometers left to go. Harry took out his map, and used his compass to orient it towards the south, and what he hoped was the base. There were too few landmarks to shoot azimuths and using back azimuths to triangulate their location, so Harry was going to have trust in his pace count and compass bearing.

Harry sighed as he shut off his red-filtered flashlight and put it back into his pants pocket. It was then he heard it as Neville frantically waved at him to get down into the crevice of a rock nearby. Neville and Dudley had already hid and were staying as still as possible. Harry watched as overhead two Westland Scout and two Lynx helicopters flew in a staggered, two by two formation. They were flying lights out and Harry was only able to identify them after the Scouts fired out two, parachute flares overhead. 

Huddling, Harry prayed that they wouldn't be seen. He prayed that he was huddled down in the shadows enough, and that the vegetation around him was enough to break up his outline and not be noticed by someone flying above him, hunting him. He prayed because he didn't want to go through this damn test another goddamn time.

For once, it seemed someone was actually listening to Harry's prayers as after dropping the flares and what was a quick look at valley beneath them, the choppers moved on. As soon as the sound diminished, Harry stood and motioned for Dudley and Neville to follow him as they moved on. Moving even faster then they had before, the went up the spur and over the side, and continued on for three more kilometers and another hour until they reached the top of a high hill and saw the base below them. 

Harry was tempted to relax, until he heard the same noise of the helicopters. Sure enough, it was the same choppers, though this time, Harry saw in the morning gloom and dawn, the Lynxes were landing on the far side of valley across from Harry's patrol.

"Oh fuck," Harry muttered. Time was of the essence so he motioned for them to follow him as he started a fast jog down the hill. With a mere two kilometers left to go, Harry hoped they could make it running. Rather, he was going to make sure they made it or they died trying. 

Going downhill, with about 75% of one's body's weight added on while running and holding an 11 pound loaded rifle isn't fun. Things became unglued as just as Harry's feet reached flat ground, Neville tripped and slammed into the ground, with Dudley tripping too as he followed too closely behind him. Both of them rolled to the ground as Harry turned and saw the mess. 

Neville, whose clumsiness had obviously proven to be an advantage in this case, got up but Dudley looked stunned. Harry didn't have the time to waste so he merely slung one of Dudley's arms around his shoulders, lifted him up and started marching. Neville took up Dudley's position of tail end Charlie of their patrol and carried Dudley's rifle.

They continued marching, though not as fast as before. Dawn was fast approaching as it became increasingly light. Harry kept on thinking of the end that was fast approaching… 

1.8 kilometers. 1.7 kilometers. 1.6 kilometers

Harry could see the end fast approaching and he didn't dare look at his watch. Dudley was starting to moan, and speak. "Leave me, I quit…"

"Don't fucking speak like that, Dudley, we're almost there."

"I'm a fucking worthless sod, you'll…"

"Be fucked if we leave one of our mates behind. Won't we, Neville?"

Neville joined in, "Yeah, Duds, just another klick and we'll be there. Gear, body and all."

"You heard him, Dudley. Come on, tough it out. Think of…" Harry thought a moment, then replied, "I heard you talking once of this one girl back at your school, Julie wasn't it? You said she had a pair of tits to die for?"

Dudley moaned, "Yeah, she had a set big enough that you could make out the nipples even when she wore a T-shirt."

"Well, those tits will be waiting for you when we reach the base, all right? Think of those tits, and they will get you home."

Harry paused as he moved through a pile of marshy heather and spoke as they passed through the knee-high mud. " I want you to think of every little detail of each one of those breasts. Keep thinking of them. Fuck the pain, fuck the cold, fuck all else that is out there and think of those tits and keep fucking moving, you hear me, Dudley?"

Dudley only grunted and kept up with Harry and Neville.

Another kilometer passed and Harry could see the front gate with its guardhouse slowly rise ahead of them as they reached the paved road. By now, Dudley was able to move without anyone helping him, so Harry took a look at the cheap watch he had strapped to his wrist. It was 0515, and they had half a kilometer to go. In other words, they had 45 minutes to cover a 15-minute distance. Then Harry felt his hopes dashed as he saw a platoon of paras start gathering around the sides of the roads. For a moment, Harry wanted to give it up, pack it in.

Yet something about the paras made him keep pushing on even though Neville was muttering foully under his breath and Dudley looked like he was about to cry. _Look, not glance, Harry_. Those were the words his uncle Alex had told him when they were about to start. _Look closely but quickly at everything and anything around you. Glancing is useful only when you wish to reconnoiter a woman, and if you use it enough, glancing will get you killed_.

Harry noticed that the faces were smiling, and one of the paras was a short black man. All it seemed were grinning broadly. Harry knew then it was 2nd Platoon, and it was then they all heard the shouting. 

"Come on lads, just a wee bit farther!"

"Tough it out, boyos, you're almost there."

"I got a cold keg of Guinness and a willing woman here boys! Just a bit further!"

Dudley and Neville and Harry grimaced as they kept running. Neville, who had been looking back to see their chasers going down the hill which they had just come off, didn't even bother looking back anymore as they began sprinting, or sprinting as much as one can when you you're packing about 75 pounds worth of rifle and bergen and belt kit. 

Even though they were suffering from blistered and battered feet, lack of sleep, and not having had a decent meal in almost 20 hours, they pushed on. The people chasing them were nothing as the end of their ordeal was in sight.

They came barreling down up the hill and through the gate. As they passed through the gate, the men of 2nd Platoon started clapping and telling to keep it up to the parade ground. A few more meters and they were there as the trio halted in a ragged line in front of Uncle Alex, Dick Longbottom, and Ghost Fletcher. The men of second platoon had followed them and cheered as they came to halt. Fletcher, Longbottom and Alex stepped forward, and even though they were all shaking from exhaustion, they cleared the actions of their weapons, put them on safe and turned them in. 

After the weapons were turned in, Alex put on his trademark lazy grin and spoke, "Lads, you look uncomfortable, so why don't you ditch those bergens, your jackets and shirts, and boots?" Paras from second platoon helped them ease off their bergens and belt kit. Harry started feeling immensely better as one of the paras who had taught him how to track, a short South African named Denys Malan, helped him take off his boots. Soon, all three were standing bare foot and bare-chested on the parade ground.

"You've marched 40 klicks in about," quick glance at his watch, " 19 hours and 28 minutes. You had to complete it in 20 hours or less. You did splendid, lads. Now, I'm sure you need to cool off a bit, what? And get cleaned up after your march, eh?" At that three pairs of paras, each holding a metal trashcan filled with cold water walked up and dumped the contents on them. 

All three bellowed in shock, though Harry thought it felt good as well since it got rid of the layer of sweat he had had since they had been marching. Smaller buckets of cold water were thrown on their pained feet. After the shock, Harry wiped his hair back and looked around and at himself. All three had gained muscle and stamina, but whereas it looked like Harry still was slim, Dudley and Neville had lost much weight and filled out it back out with muscle while Harry had gained some muscle as well. Running a hand along his chin, Harry felt a stubble, and realized that only now he was becoming older, almost a man.

His train of thought was disrupted as Rooney, Fletcher, and Tongue stepped forwarded and draped parachute smocks around their shoulders. Alex continued his speech, "You've gone through a damn hard test, and passed with flying colors. Since you haven't made five parachute jumps, we can't give you the jump wings. But we can give you these smocks for toughing it out with the best of us. Also, judging by the letters we removed from your belt kits, you hit all the points correctly on the course. All in all, a good bit of work. Now, go hit the showers."

At that, the men of second platoon carried Dudley, Neville and Harry back into the barracks where they had hot tea, a hot meal, and (most importantly) cushioned sandals for them to wear after they washed up.


	8. Chapter VIII: Baptism of Fire

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related.

Chapter VIII: Baptism of Fire 

For the next three days, the boys rested and didn't move very much as the blisters and sores on their feet healed. During that time, they didn't wear socks, and while they still attended in-door classes, the marching and conditioning were kept to a minimum, consisting of the usual upper body and abdominal muscle building routines. Their meals were taken in the mess, with the men of second platoon having adopted them as unit mascots. At mealtime, the men of second platoon talked with them, joked with them, and generally treated them as one of their own.

These were hard men, crude men to whom trust and respect was something that had to be earned, but once it was earned, it was permanent. An incident that had taken place in the mess hall demonstrated that fact all too clearly. Neville had dropped a mug of tea on to a plate of chips that happened to belong a member of third platoon. The man took an instant objection to that fact and it appeared a brawl was about to break out as after Harry and Dudley got up and stood besides Neville, the man's friends had done likewise, and then all of both platoons had got up and was only cooled down after the company color sergeant got up and told them all to sit down or else they would be enjoying a pleasant visit to the Army detention barracks at Colchester.

One thing had been proven to Harry though. These men considered him one of their own, and heaven help anyone who dared to try anything towards him, for they certainly wouldn't.

                                                            *          *          *

Three days after Turner's Drag, Harry was woken up at their usual time by Tongue, who told them to pack their bergens again. Groaning, Harry hurriedly put on his uniform, washed his face and teeth, shaved (Alex and Ghost had shown the boys how to shave the day they had come back from the Drag, and gotten them each a metal safety razor, a pack of extra blades, and a bottle of shaving cream a piece) and re-packed his bergen. His belt kit was still packed the way it had been after the Drag. 

Putting on his drill cap, he picked up his bergen and his belt kit and trotted outside. There, he joined Dudley, and Neville, who were in the midst of putting on their belt kits and getting ready to move out, as the rest of second platoon was getting ready on the parade ground for a road march. Tongue came by and issued them their weapons and seven magazines each, but informed them that beyond the magazines they wouldn't be issued any ammunition.

Dick Longbottom came up and spoke, "All right, lads, since you'll be leaving day after tomorrow, me and Alex decided to combine a tactical exercise I had planned with a farewell barbeque. So what'll happen is this: we march to this place I know of, camp out there for a day, then march back tomorrow morning. We'll be carrying some live ammunition with us, but that's only for hunting. No explosives, no grenades, as we have to go through a real pain in the ass of a process to sign for them, but we'll be taking with us our three GPMGs (General Purpose Machine Gun) so you lads will get the chance to try your hand at firing it. Any questions?"

Harry asked, "How far a march will it be, Sergeant?" 

Uncle Alex, wearing belt kit with bergen on his back and L85 (SA-80) rifle on his shoulder, came up, "Not far, about eight klicks at three klicks an hour; just enough to be comfortably pleasant. You lads ready?" The pace, while faster then the one they had used before during orienteering, was over a shorter distance, and wouldn't be unduly wearing on them.

The boys nodded, as Alex had the platoon form up into two lines. Dudley, Harry, and Neville fell in side by side as Longbottom gave the command to turn, and they started marching, no cadence being called, out the gates and down the road. About a kilometer from the base, they turned into the hills and marched north. About two hours later, as the sun continued to rise, they stopped before a large pool of clear water on top of a granite ridge, with a waterfall going downstream of the pool.

Easing off their packs, the men of second platoon eased their packs down as Alex and Dick had them finding firewood and kindling. Every man also eased out three bottles of Guinness that they had carried (wrapped in socks to ensure they didn't break against anything else) and placed them in the pool, to ensure that they would be cool later on. Dudley, Harry, and Neville, after caching their bergens with the rest of the platoon's kit, went over to learn how use the L7A2 being taught by Ned Lleywyn, a genial Welshman from Cardiff. Using a clump of rocks down the ridge as a target, the trio each fired ten rounds (in two five round bursts) at the rocks. All of them thought it was great fun.

Yet their fun didn't last long as Dick started bellowing, "Right, gather round! Gather round!"

The platoon did so as Longbottom unfolded a map on a rock near the fire pit. Pointing to a road junction on the map, he spoke, "Right, I got word in from Battalion headquarters that we are to hike there, and set up a vehicular ambush in about," he glanced at his watch, "ninety minutes. It's about a good eight kilometers. The targets are two standard-issue Land Rovers and a Bedford four-ton truck, with sixteen hostiles dressed in standard kit on board. Since they have Stinger missiles and a portable radar system with them, the higher-ups don't want anything flying to come near them. Now, since there are at five other areas they could pass through, so we have been selected to set up ambush at that road junction while other elements get the other locations. Any questions yet?"

A section leader named Corporal Talbot raised his hand, "Since you said the targets were dressed in standard kit, with Army issue vehicles, how are we to ID them from the real deal? I mean, it would really hurt to ice down a bunch of our own now wouldn't it?"

Alex replied, "All of the targets are Provo bastards, and I have been given the ID numbers for the vehicles, so that shouldn't be any problem. Now, cache the bergens and the beer. Break out the live rounds, there should be enough in the ammo cans for four magazines each. Nick," he spoke to one of the GPMG gunners, "break up a couple of belts of 7.62 and so that those three have enough for four magazines for their SLRs. Now move, we don't have much time."

Everyone moved quickly as they all started loading magazines with live ammunition and ditched anything that could slow them down. Helmets, bergens, rations, everything but two field dressings, two canteens, their ammunition and their weapons were cached. Harry, Dudley and Neville gathered round as Talbot, Lleywyn, and Chris Begby broke up three one hundred round belts of ammunition and told them to load their magazines with them. Within a minute, Harry had completed his while Neville fumbled and seemed to have a hard time fitting them in. Noticing Neville's hands were shaking, Harry tossed over his four magazines and briskly told him to hand over his four. Neville gratefully did so as he loaded them just as quickly as he did with the other ones. 

Within ten minutes, the platoon was moving a fast, half running, and half walking pace as they moved without talking time out for a single break. Even though they were carrying far less, the increased pace at almost ten kilometers per hour ensured that all were grateful when they finally reached the ambush position. Still, there was no relief as Longbottom and Alex conferred quickly and laid out the ambush. 

The road was a two lane paved road heading east that was wide enough for two Land Rovers to pass through abreast that branched off to the west north and south in front of a hedge. On the map it looked like a T laying down on it's left side. Additionally, there was a forest to the North on one side of the road with tall hedgerows lining both sides of the road.

The ambush laid down called for one section (with one GPMG) to open fire from the west, using the hedge running N-S as concealment while the main force (the remaining two sections and GPMGs), using the hedge lining the south part of the road going W-E, would open up after the first one. All three would form an L-Shaped ambush, ensuring that the people in the kill zone (i.e. the road before the junction) would face a blithering barrage of 7.62mm and 5.56mm bullets.

The only problem was that the lack of explosives ensured that a normal vehicular ambush (disabling the first and last vehicles of a group of them and cutting everything else in the middle to pieces) wouldn't be possible. A decoy, a ruse of some sort was needed to ensure that the vehicles stopped long enough for the drivers to be killed, and some of the tires shot out or otherwise ensuring that the vehicles were disabled in some form or fashion.

Alex and Dick Longbottom were contemplating dragging loose branches and other assorted trash from the woods in what little time they had left to form a barricade, but were having doubts as to whether or not they had enough time to make an effective one. It was hearing their discussion that Harry had an idea, and brought it up to Dick and Alex. Taking only a minute, he quickly laid out his idea and waited for their response.

Dick looked as though he was about to shoot the idea down out of hand, but Alex appeared thoughtful. "You sure about this Harry? The risks…" 

"Are acceptable, Uncle," Harry cut him off, "'Sides, I look the part enough already. And Sergeant Longbottom, this is the only option left considering how little time we have. The lads will need to time to get camouflaged up, and the kill zone prepared to what little degree it can be." The last several weeks had given a fair understanding of infantry combat.

_I really have changed_, Harry marveled. A month ago, Harry doubted if he could have kept himself from quivering in fear or shyness. Now, he was discussing the possibility of his death as though it were a common thing he had to face. _The possibility of my sudden death may be the only constant in my life_, Harry thought dryly.

Dick threw up his hands and replied, "All right, you seem to want to get yourself killed, fine by me so long as your uncle agrees to go along with the plan. Alex?"

Alex nodded, "Same here, so let's get busy, we don't have enough time."

                                                            *          *          *

Ten minutes later, Harry sat next to a rock almost in the center of the road. He had a green tourniquet covering part of his head, and another binding his left arm with a pair of sticks. Doc Abberline, the platoon medic, had opened a bag of plasma (blood) from an insulated container he carried and dumped it about Harry's head, shoulders and arms. Harry's story was simple should he be asked: he was on an orienteering exercise when he had taken a nasty fall, broke an arm, and had a piece of rock jabbed into his body causing him to bleed. His uniform was suitably torn and dirtied looking as well (this having been done when his uncle had him roll around in the dirt for a few minutes) ensuring that people would believe him long enough to matter. 

Still, Harry was starting to worry. _Just fucking great, I just had to open my mouth_, Harry thought to himself. He was unarmed, had one arm tied up, and it didn't look as though as he had got costumed up for nothing.

He was about to call out and ask if they had received any signals indicating if the mission they were doing was a go or no go when he spied movement down the road. Getting up, he started to stagger and stand ungainly in the middle of it. As he watched, he saw that it was an Army ¾ Ton Land Rover, followed by a Bedford 4x4, and ending with another Land Rover. The truck was covered with canvas, but the Land Rovers had their tops open to reveal four men in each one. 

Staggering, Harry stood in the middle of the road and waved feebly with the un-bandaged arm. The convoy slowly stopped as the man in the shotgun seat of the lead Land Rover stepped and walked towards Harry. Harry saw that he had on the three pips of a Captain on his shoulder boards and made the effort to salute. The Captain, a tall, lanky fellow with curly brown hair, waved it off and asked in a broad Irish accent, "So what the hell happened to you, soldier?" 

"I fell, sir, during a land navigation exercise. My mission was to hit twelve set locations, and were I to be injured, use this survival radio in my pack. Problem was, sir, my fall broke my arm, and it took the radio with it. I managed to hobble my way back here and you are the first people I've seen in a long time…"

"Really, lad? And what regiment would you be belonging to now?"

Harry had carefully watched as a group of grinning men had exited from the Land Rovers and Bedford. Watching, he knew that these weren't professional soldiers. For starters, none of them wore the same kind of cap, and even those that did there was too much difference between their cap badges to be of the same unit. The second reason was that all of the men carried folding stock FN FAL rifles, a weapon that looked like the SLRs Harry and his mates carried. The only problem with that was the fact the British had never used the folding stock variant, and the SLR period had been totally phased about five years earlier, which was probably why Harry, Dudley, and Neville had been issued them so that they wouldn't fuck up the newer equipment.

Harry spoke up, "2nd Paras, sir. My first assi…UMPH!"

This was spoken as the Captain punched him in the stomach, and then kicked his legs out from under him as he finished 2nd Paras. As he fell to the ground, the captain stomped in the solar plexar with his right boot, causing Harry to puke. The men who had been grinning started cheering on the Captain on with, "Beat the Para fucker, Tim!" "Rip his feckin' heart out!" and other niceties.

It was obvious to Harry that these were the men they had been waiting for. Harry hoped that the ambush would start soon for every second felt like an eternity.

As Harry moaned, the Captain pulled out a large serrated knife and kneeled down besides Harry, who looked at him with pure hatred. "I'm going to fix your arm by chopping it off, and then gut you like a fish, you paratrooper bastard," the man spoke to Harry as he ripped aside the splint on his arm. Harry, lips covered in vomit, snorted and asked, "Go ahead you Provo bastard, you son of a whore, I dare you to do it." The man grinned, and spoke conversationally, "I may be that, but I think I won't gut you yet, I think I'll cut your bollocks first and make you eat them, you swine." With that, Harry spat at him and lunged.

The sudden defiance had taken the Irish by surprise as Harry, using a pencil he had pulled out of his pocket when he rolled on the ground and hid in his right sleeve, shoved the pencil into the right eye of the Captain. Screaming in pain, he dropped his knife and tried to pull away from Harry but Harry pulled him down to the ground and held on for several of the Captain's men had been about to shoot. Still, holding on, Harry pulled the Browning the Captain had had in a pistol belt holster, flipped the safety down, and fired two rounds into the chest of the Captain.

One must have hit the heart for the man suddenly went limp, and Harry could smell the man's shit as his bowels loosened in death.

It was then Harry heard the most wonderful sound of the moment as the three GPMGs and L-85s of 2nd Platoon, B Company, 2nd Battalion, Parachute Regiment opened fire. Harry instinctively lay down beneath the body of the man he had killed for he knew that by standing up he merely presented a target. Earlier, it had been explained countless times that when the bullets flew everyone was equal. Glancing out from under the body he lay under, he saw several of the Provos run over the hedge and keep running. He heard the section leaders moving the sections forward. Cautiously rising, he saw Neville and Dudley come bounding up towards him as Harry crawled to the hedge. Neville yelled, "Harry!" and tossed over his SLR.

Dropping the Browning he had been using, Harry chambered a round, flipped the safety off, and looked for targets over the edge of the hedge he was behind. Seeing an Irishman, he fired a shot, knocking him off his feet. Still looking, he fired again and saw the head of one explode like a piece of fruit as he hit it, and watched as more blood came forth as Dudley, and Neville shot at it at the same moment. Within seconds, only two of the Irish made it into the tree line. The other sixteen lay dead in the roadway and the clearing to the woods.

"Right, number one and two sections go in skirmish line into the trees, number three and four sections provide over-watch."

That was Dick Longbottom speaking. 

Harry, Dudley, and Neville, got up and spread out as their section (under the other South African, Lance Corporal Tom Courteney) moved forward in a rush to the trees. Spreading out, they advanced, combing the ground and hoping to find and kill the last two Provos. Harry was acutely aware of the fact that one of the bastards could literally rise out of the ground at many minute, which made him grip his rifle tighter, holding it against his shoulder and ready to fire at a moments notice. 

Slowly, he advanced through the woods one pace at a time. As he entered, he became aware that the firing had stopped, that he was separated from Neville on his right, and Chris Collins (a baby-faced Irishman from Liverpool) on his left, and that the wood he had entered was becoming darker and gloomier by the second.

_Don't think Harry, just act_, he thought to himself. 

He heard a snap to his right, and turned, ready to fire as his rifle was tucked into his shoulder. Harry didn't fire as he saw that it was only Dudley and Neville, who looked like they were ready to shoot Harry, as Harry had been willing to shoot him.

Sighing, Harry flipped the safety of his rifle on and was about to open his mouth when something in him told him he should duck. Throwing himself to the ground, he heard the sounds of Neville and Dudley firing their weapons into a target behind. Huddling down, he waited until the firing stopped, and slowly looked behind him. Sure enough, it was the two Provos, and one of them still looked as though he were breathing. 

_This bastard might be worth something_, Harry thought as he got up and went over to the wounded Irishman, who had been shot thrice in the chest and was still alive, albeit barely. Quickly checking him for weapons, Harry found none as he took one of the field dressings on the Irishman's web kit and opened it. "Neville, Duds, go find Tom and tell him we have a live one here."

No sooner had Harry said it then Tom Courteney and the other section arrived. Turning back, Harry opened the dressing and placed the plastic cover over the chest wound. Since the gunshot wounds were so close together, he needed only the one dressing cover to form an airtight seal over the wound. Placing the field dressing on tope of the cover, he started to wrap the ends of the dressing around the casualty's wound. Turning him over on to a side, Harry was heartened to see that there wasn't an exit wound, meaning one less area he would have to patch up. Picking him up by the armpit, he slung him on a shoulder and together they staggered out of the forest as Courteney and the rest of the section policed up the empty shells and the other dead Provo.

As they came out of the tree line, Harry could see the other members of the platoon dragging the other dead bodies into a line and covering them with the canvas taken off the Bedford. Dick and Alex came running up as they saw Harry with his prisoner followed closely by Dudley and Neville. Dick spoke first, "Right, turn that prick over to Ghost and his section, all right? We got a team of SIS and Army intelligence personnel coming in to sterilize the area, so sit tight."

Harry handed his prisoner over to Ghost, who took what looked like a piece of looped plastic wire and bound his hands with it. Disregarding the man's wounds, Ghost pushed him to the ground and blindfolded him with a tourniquet and an empty sandbag. Only then did he pick the prisoner up and take him away.

After the beating Harry had taken, he wouldn't have given a damn if Ghost had decided to use the man as a testing body for the knife he kept sharpening. The only thing that worried him was that he was shaking, and he didn't know why.

Alex did, and came up to the boys with an open pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes. "Right, Harry, Neville, Duds, take one and light up. You boys need it." Harry proceeded to take one, and put it in his mouth as Alex flicked open a black painted Zippo lighter and lit his cigarette. Taking a deep drag, Harry sucked it down into his lungs and coughed it back up at the rancid taste of it. "Christ, were you trying to kill me?" Harry asked his uncle angrily.

Alex laughed, and pointed to Harry's hands, "No, and if you notice it carefully, you'll see that your shakes have slowed."

Looking down, Harry was surprised to see that his hands had slowed down their shaking. He was about to ask Alex when Alex explained, "The nicotine has a calming effect on a person's nerves. Here," he tossed over his silver flask to Neville, who had smoked half of his cigarette by then, "one small sip only and you'll feel much better." Neville took one, then Dudley, and finally Harry, who discovered it was sweeter liquor then the last one he had had. He was tempted to take some more before handing it over, but he did so without taking any more. Harry asked, "What was that?"

Alex looked at him, "Bavarian Schnapps, you like it? I learned to like it during a tour in the British Army on the Rhine. You piss or shit yourself?"

Neville and Dudley admitted they had pissed themselves when the Irish had returned fire, and Harry spoke back, "I'm covered in enough blood from that one bastard who died on top of me it's hard to tell."

Alex laughed, "That's the spirit lad." He looked as though he would say more but was interrupted at the sound of helicopters flying in. Sure enough, a Wessex helicopter landed, disgorged a bunch of people in British camouflage, and took off. Within minutes, another Wessex and two Pumas did likewise, though the last one only dropped off two passengers. One was a tall, lean middle-aged man with sandy colored hair while the other was a shorter, dark-haired man who looked much older then the other man.  Judging by the salutes being rendered, the shorter one was an officer of some sort.

Dick ran up, saluted, and seemed to be conferring with the shorter man. After a minute, the three of them walked up to Alex, and the lads. All four of them saluted as they saw that the shorter man had the crown over triangle of pips, indicating he was a Brigadier in the British Army; the other man wore an Army uniform with no insignia whatsoever on it.

The younger man spoke first in an accent that was pure Belfast, almost like that of the Provo Harry had killed. "Which one of you was the ballsy little bastard that was the decoy and put two rounds in Black Mike O'Malley's heart?"

Harry stepped forward, the front of his uniform still covered with the Provo's blood. The Prove whose name he just found out. 

"I did, Sir." 

"How old are you, lad?"

This was the older man.

"Fifteen, sir"

The younger of the two men grinned and whistled, "You'd make a stone cold killer, lad. It takes a bit of guts to place you in that kind of position, and to kill a man with a pencil. Your name, son?"

Harry looked at him straight in the eye, "Harry Potter, sir. And yours?"

The taller man grinned, "Sean Dillon at your service."

Alex spoke up, "Dillon of Belfast? The Dillon who gunned down eight lads of 3rd Para during the winter of '84?" 

Dillon spoke, "In the past, but yes, that was me. I got out after that, and worked for the Brigadier last year."

Alex looked at him and grinned, "What the fuck, we were all doing our jobs back then. 

Captain Alex Evans of the Royal Green Jackets. Retired of course."

Whilst Dillon and Alex spoke, the Brigadier came around and spoke to Harry, Neville and Dudley.

He held out his hand to Harry first, "Brigadier Charles Ferguson. Were it not for the fact that this incident never took place, you three would be publicly thanked for the government. The only thing I can guarantee out of this is if any of you later decide to join the military, I will do everything in my power to ensure you get an appointment in either Dartmouth or Sandhurst."

He paused and looked at them, "Until a later date, I'm afraid I'm going to have ask all of you to keep the events that happened here to yourselves. Can you do that? I would like your solemn word, gentleman of that?"

All three of the boys nodded, and gave their word. 

Ferguson nodded and continued, "Now that has been taken care of, we'll take control of cleanup and the prisoners. I believe you were engaged on a military exercise?" He was speaking to Dick Longbottom that time.

Dick Longbottom replied, "Yes sir, we cached our bergens about eight kilometers from here. We were going to have a bonfire and toast these lads here with Guinness," he gestured to Harry, Neville, and Dudley, "and we plan on having it when after we secure the site over to you."

Ferguson nodded, "Good, we'll handle everything from here on out. In case anyone asks over the discrepancies in regards to your ammunition…" he gave Dick a slip of paper and contact procedures in case anyone was interested in what they were doing today. Dillon, together with Alex, took the boys aside for a few minutes.

"You lads have killed for the first time. I don't have enough time but as a man who has had to kill more then his fair share of others, I have to say this for it was once said to me by a man who taught me much…Guilt is natural, but you must temper it with the knowledge that if you hadn't killed your opponent, then it would be your opponent who would be feeling guilty, whilst you were dead. Simply, it was either he or you at the time. Do you understand?"

The boys nodded and watched as Dillon turned, and walked to one of the Pumas. Ferguson came by, thanked them for their services, collected their full names, and boarded the same helicopter as Dillon.

Alex pulled another cigarette out of the pack and crushed it as he saw that it was empty. "There lads," he spoke, "goes one of Britain's hardest killers, and his keeper." He turned to Harry, "Pray you never meet the like amongst You-Know-Who's people, who for the most part are largely a bunch of morons."

Pausing, he seemed to drift far away. "Though they do succeed. Indeed they do…"

Harry didn't know what to say as he watched the Puma rise and fly away.

                                                            *          *          *

An hour and a half later, the men marched back to the campsite on the ridge with the pool of water and the waterfall beneath it. Harry, with his outer jacket, shirt, and trousers coated with blood and vomit, went over to his bergen and pulled out his toiletries and a clean set of clothes he carried. Going down to the waterfall, he stripped naked and scrubbed himself of the blood that coated him. After about thirty minutes he felt clean enough that he put on a pair of trousers and walked bare-chested up to the ridge, where Neville and Dudley were sitting around as men gathered around a telling stories that hard men tell. Harry field stripped his SLR and cleaned it using cleaning patches and some bore solvent (to get rid of the gunpowder build-up in the barrel), and after lightly oiling it, sprayed some WD-40 in the action and barrel to ensure the lubrication was in order.

Neville and Dudley had already done that and were listening wide-eyed to Courteney and Rooney were telling stories of Hong Kong, a place that the two of them had been sent to right after the Persian Gulf War.

These were simple tales, of fighting, drinking, whoring, and humor. Of how Rooney and Courteney had had to hijack a rickshaw and race it through downtown Hong Kong in order to make a get away from a cathouse brawl. Another story was of how one woman Tim Newgate was fucking turned out to be the wife of a general, and how he only found out after the general almost caught them. Harry, and everyone laughed as he told of having to run bare-ass through the British base in Berlin at three in the morning in order to escape without being caught.

Soon, bottles of Guinness lager were passed around as a couple of coolers filled with ice and imported Brazilian beef (ribs and steaks) were roasted on rocks near the bonfire as the sun set. Harry was especially enjoying himself. These men around him had slowly developed into a family of sorts for him over the past month. Harry wondered briefly what would his life have turned into had he not received the letter from Hogwarts. What would he have done had he spent the last four years staying with his aunt and her husband, with Dudley still an asshole? Would he have eventually signed away his life on the dotted line for Queen and Country? 

His thoughts were interrupted as Nick Harris finished up his story of going to a dance when he was in school when he turned to Harry and spoke, "So tell us, Harry, of one your adventures. A lad your age must have made an attempt or a hundred at lifting a skirt." Harry, sipping his Guinness, got up and looked around the fire. "Well," Harry began, "I'll first admit that I'm still an un-blooded virgin when it comes to the women." This brought up jeers and laughter, not harsh though, from the crowd. Courteney quipped up, "The older ladies will love you lad, as they like nothing better then to break a young man in." Harry laughed and spouted back, "Like your woman, Tom?" Tom laughed just as hard as everyone else as the platoon broke out laughing. Harry waited a moment and then told the story of the Yule Ball during the last year, and how his date wound up going with a French exchange student in the middle of the dance while he mooned after Cho Chang.

All laughed at the story, more so when Neville chimed in how he felt quite the fool as it appeared to him that he had ground Ginny Weasley's feet into the floor. Tom asked a question, "So let's get this straight: Harry went with this one tart named Parvati while a rival of his went with this Cho character because Harry asked Cho too damn late. At the same time, Ginny, who liked Harry or had a crush on him or some such shit, and went with Neville over there because she felt sorry for him 'cause he got burned while Harry spent the whole night mooning over not asking the Cho girl out first. My right so far, Harry?"

Harry drained his Guinness and tossed it next to a pile of emptied bottles. He grimaced and replied sheepishly, "Yeah, that's what happened Tom. Any advice?"

Tom looked at him and told him, "You should have asked out Ginny and said to hell with that other bird. You see—"

Neville was laughing, and asked in a mock angry voice, "But what about me? I was pretty desperate after being shot down by this one bird I asked."

Tom waved him off. "Oh, I'm sure there would have been someone else willing, but for Harry over there, listen close. Them crushes, especially if it's the girl who has the crush, are one of the most powerful things in a relationship. A catalyst if you will."

He paused and sipped his beer. "There are several reasons why you should have asked her before all others, even if you didn't have any feeling for her. One, if you had gone out with her even once, it would have given both of you the chance to see if the crush was a silly one, or a genuinely worthwhile one. Two, one date would have ensured that were you two to discover that if you aren't meant for each other, a civil breaking up could be arranged, whilst a later one could very well be less then civil. And finally," Tom stared at Harry straight in the eye, " odds are, that girl would probably trust you and never do anything to hurt you. Trust, Harry, is something that can never be underestimated in woman."

Without missing a beat, Tom asked Dudley of his experiences. Harry wasn't listening as he digested what Tom had told him. _I suppose I have treated Ron's sister like shit_, he thought. That was the problem, Harry concluded, he thought of her as Ron's sister first and not a woman second. Even the picture Harry had of her was when she was eleven, and Harry knew _that _wasn't what he found attractive in a woman.

Yet, Harry lost his train of thought as his uncle Alex came up and tapped him on the shoulder, motioning for him to follow him. Harry did so and followed him down the ridge where Alex handed him a cigar as he took one for himself. Striking a match, Alex lit his and Harry's and asked, "Harry, Dumbledore told me one of your special…talents is to make your hair grow back. Can you decide to keep it short if you want to?"

Harry took a long drag, savoring the fine Latin American tobacco. Uncle Alex had taught him the value of a good drink, and a good smoke. He shrugged, "I can try I suppose. I've never had to do it before. Why do you ask?"

Alex gave his trademark grin, "You'll see. Come on, let's get it started."

With Harry following behind him, Alex went up the hill and motioned to Neville and Dudley to join him. Once they did, he spoke to out the campfire. "Lads, today, we saw these three boys make the leap to manhood when each of them killed their first man." There was no humorous laughter as all seemed to be staring at the trio. Harry could feel the heat of the campfire through his khaki flannel shirt, and could feel numbness run through his veins and testicles. Alex continued, "A tradition the Indians of Belize have when one of their boys become men, by killing a man, they say the boy has died, and the man is born. To symbolize this, the hair of the boy is cut, and as the boy speaks of something he wishes to leave behind him, he burns the cut hair. What he wishes to leave behind can be anything, but usually it is something childish, such as a grudge or something similar." Alex looked at the three of them, and spoke once more.

"Today, the boy within you has died, and a man has born. Think of what you wish to leave behind in boyhood in the time ahead and sit." As the boys did so, Ghost Fletcher, Dick Longbottom, and Alex stepped forward with battered powered electric razors. Ghost took Harry's head, while Alex handled Dudley's and Dick sheared Neville's. The hair was cut into canteen cups as waterproof ponchos were placed around their necks to ensure that hair didn't trickle into their uniforms. Harry thought deeply about what he wanted to say, and realized the whole purpose of the exercise. Deciding finally, he waited patiently for Ghost to finish cutting his hair.

Within minutes, all three were sporting close-cropped crew cuts. Motioning for them to stand, Neville went first. "Before I came, I was a clumsy, shy, forgetful bastard who was afraid of his own shadow. I had very few friends, people who were able to see past the bumbling. People like my mate Harry over there." He pointed to Harry and continued, "My problem was I feared what would happen were to mess up, and so I feared doing anything, which ensure that when I did something, it got cocked up. Today, one of my mates depended on my not fucking up, and the more I thought of it, I became angry that one of my friends' life depended on me, the fuck up. Anger, caused me to focus, and not cock up." His jaw set like a dagger, Neville stepped forward until he was touching the edge of the fire. "I swear that from this day forth, I will never fear messing up. For I may fuck things up, but the more I fear it, the more likely it is I'll fail. After facing the fear of killing a friend, nothing else can come close." With that, he threw his canteen cup of hair into the fire. The men of second platoon clapped and raised their beer in a salute to him as Neville's uncle came up and embraced him.

Dudley was next. Stepping forth, he spoke almost fearfully, "I've been a spoiled bastard, a coward, a bully to those weaker then me, and worst of all," he stared directly at Harry, "I treated my cousin Harry as though he were an animal. I was like this, and enjoyed being like it until last year, when someone tougher, more cruel and ruthless then I was came and beat the shit out of me. My so-called friends abandoned me and joined in the beating and humiliation that followed." He looked at all of them, "I was surprised then, when I came here and found out that here, a man has a clean slate. I managed to find something I could do without mummy and daddy holding my hand. I found that friendship and respect are earned, not taken." He paused and turned towards Harry, "I learned that when my cousin forgave me and save my ass when it was hanging. He could have let me out there, as payback for a decade and a half worth of being a shit. But he didn't and for that I'm grateful." He, too, got up and walked close to the flames. Speaking with an edge of steel in his voice, Dudley stared into the flames, "I swear from this day forth I shall never tolerate a bully, be it man or woman, young or old," his voice became even harder, "stranger, or even my mother and father and aunt. This I swear as repayment for the second chance I've been given." With that, he tossed his cut hair into the flames, as the men of second platoon again raised their beer in salute. Alex came up and shook his hand, and then embraced him.

Harry finally came. Stepping up near the fire, he took a long minute looking at all the men of second platoon. He began slowly, " Ever since the end of June, I've feared and worried. Worried that I would get my friends hurt or killed. For you see, the first time I saw a dead man was last June, and I watched as he was killed in front of my eyes." Harry stared into the flames. In the flames, he could still hear Pettigrew shouting the Killing Curse, the green flash, the sight of Cedric Diggory falling to the ground, dead before he hit it. "I felt guilt over it for he was the rival that beat me in a school game, that beat me to the woman I wanted, that it seemed he was going to best me in everything, and I hated him for it. I felt ashamed for I felt that by hating him, I caused his death." Still staring, he saw clips of his nightmares go into the flames. Of the last desperate moments when Harry felt sure he was going to die in some rotten graveyard in the middle of who knew where, of Cho cursing and hating him, of Malfoy raping Hermione and Ginny and sometimes Cho, and him not being able to do a damn thing and watch. Harry forced himself to continue speaking, "I've learned here that no matter how I hated him, or despised him, that I had little to do with his death. That when he competed in the competition that he and I were in, he signed his name on the dotted line that said death was may be part of the package. I learned that while I may have this guilt with me until I die, but that it can be controlled, and in time turned to regret. My worries that I enjoyed him dieing were unfounded, and as for my fear of hurting those around me…" He paused and spoke again, "Let what comes, come. My headmaster said something similar, but here is where I learned the truth of it." Harry walked up to the edge of fire, feeling the heat of it throughout his body. Holding the canteen cup, he spoke, "Let what will come arrive, I may worry of it, but I shall not fear it for without time and chance, I'd never have gone here, or done any of what I've done in my life. That I swear today." With that, Harry hurled his black hair into the fire and watched it disintegrate in the heat and flames.

One final time the men of second platoon arose and saluted him with their Guinness. Alex came by once more and hugged him. Alex spoke to the three of them, "You are all men now, and we here shall treat you as such. For most of us around here," he waved to the men around him, "We have been fighting for the Queen since the age of sixteen. In holes like the Falklands, Kuwait, Iraq, and the finishing school for us all in Northern Ireland. You are now in a brotherhood of arms, of hard men and hard lives, for together with us, you have sweated together, drank together, and fought together. One day, you will die, but so long as there are men such as us out there, you will live forever." With that, Alex gave a final toast before roaring, "NOW SOMEONE TOLD ME THERE WOULD BE DRINKING! WELL, SOMEBODY PASS THE FUCKING BREW FOR I'M BLOODY THIRSTY!" Second platoon broke out into cheers as more Guinness was passed around, and somebody dug out a couple bottles of Imperial Gin and proceeded to mix it with army fruit juice powder to make a strange concoction that tasted better the more one drank of it.

With that, the night became as it was before with men gorging themselves on beef and beer, and Tim Gattacker, a scrawny para from Liverpool, almost lighting himself on fire when he farted near the campfire, much to the amusement of the platoon. To Harry, this was one of the finest evenings he had had in his life, and when time came for him to crash, Harry fell soundly asleep.

As he had in the past four weeks, Harry wasn't disturbed in his sleep by dreams, for hard work, hard drink, hard tobacco, and hard fun was proving to be the true cure for his problems.


	9. Chapter IX: A Strange Meeting

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related.

Chapter IX: A Strange Meeting 

The next morning Harry awoke and went to wash up. Thrusting his head into the pool of water, he scrubbed his head and neck with the cold water, relishing the feel of it on him. When he felt that any possible hairs that were on him had been cleaned away, he pulled his head out of the water and stared at his reflection. Without the long hair in front, his lightning bolt-shaped scar was quite visible. Beyond that, Harry rather liked his new haircut as he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his head. Rubbing the stubble where his hair had been, Harry decided to keep his hair like this for a while, though he would have to do something about the scar to keep it hidden since he didn't wish to have everyone in the wizard world identifying him via the scar on his head. Dusting any hair off of his jacket, Harry decided to ask Doc Abberline for another of his tourniquets and use it as a bandanna. _Pirate Potter_, Harry thought to himself jokingly as he headed back to his kit to start packing up.

Yet as he did so, the platoon surprised him. "Happy Birthday!" The whole platoon had made a crude cake out of freeze dried biscuits, pound cake, and scones (from the ration packs they had), and had liberally added chocolate and French vanilla frosting to hold it together. The only complex decoration was a miniature Parachute Regiment insignia made out of Oreo cookies and strawberry jam. Using the vanilla, someone had wrote, "**Happy Birthday HP" **and "**15**" on the cake. Denys Malan came up and slapped on his back, "You like chocolate, Harry? This is the same cake my mates back in the old SADF made for me in the Namib for one of my birthdays." Other people came up and started congratulating him. 

Harry was dumbfounded until he realized that today really was his birthday. The eleven years of not really having celebrated his birthday had ensured he still didn't exactly keep a close lookout for his birthday unlike most other people his age. He was touched though that these hard men, men who gambled their lives on equipment made to the lowest bidder and stretched thin throughout the world (and who would more often then not laugh and joke saying the odds were always in favor of balls of British steel), would have the kind of childish delight and compassion of making him a birthday cake out of hoarded sweets and freeze-dried rations. Dudley and Neville were grinning and laughing with the best of them as the cake was eaten, after which the presents were passed out. Since Dudley's birthday had occurred a while ago and Neville's was still to come, the men had chipped together to get three identical Fairbain Daggers for the trio. Ghost presented them, each with a darkened blade to prevent light from being reflected off of it. 

Designed as a commando dagger during the World War Two by a former captain of the Shanghai Police Department, they were short at eight inches long, but easily concealable by strapping them to the forearm, so that with practice, a flick of the wrist would bring the dagger hilt first into the palm of their hands. Ghost showed the lads how to do this earlier in the month, and as the daggers were presented, handed each of the boys a sharpening stone in a sheath with the admonishment, "Remember, a blade is only as good as it is sharp."

Harry had strapped his blade to his forearm (Dudley and Neville had decided to wear theirs' on the hip or in the small of the back) and was getting ready to pack up when Uncle Alex and Dick Longbottom told him to wait. Dick Longbottom came up and handed him a black plastic case. Opening, Harry discovered it to contain the Browning High Power he had been using on the training range. Alex answered the questions that were forming in his head, "Harry, as one of the best shots with the Browning, as well as being one of the fastest to master the shooting techniques normally taught to members of the SAS and Intelligence Company 14, we decided you earned that weapon." Inside, the Browning glistened with its flat black hue. Located in foam compartments were three 13 round magazines, one twenty round magazine, three boxes 9mm ammunition (two of ball, one of hollow point), and a cleaning kit (gun oil, barrel solvent, brushes and rod, cleaning patches, and a small can of WD-40) in the last one. Harry was genuinely touched, though he felt as though there may be another purpose behind the weapon, one that he wasn't aware of.

Dick Longbottom warned him though, "Harry, make sure you keep it out of sight otherwise the damn Bobbies will pick you up for ownership of an illegal weapon." Dudley cracked, "Yeah, and make sure you don't shoot my dickhead parents." Everyone had a good laugh out of it.

*          *          *

Twenty minutes later, Second Platoon was taking a leisurely one- and-half kilometer march back the long (i.e. twelve kilometer) way to Dwrryn Camp in two columns. The weather was pleasantly cool with the sun up and shining. They were marching across a valley with Private Cooper and the platoon singing "Over the Hills and Far Away". Cooper was something of a _Sharpe's Rifles_ fan and only stopped when Longbottom curtly told him to shut it after the tenth song in a row (on pain of having to never watch another episode _ever_ again).

Harry was in an especially jovial mood, and decided to sing a tune he thought of. Marching, he spoke first, "Eh, Coops here is a song I made." With that he broke into singing.

Parvarti Pattilly! Parvarti Pattilly! 

_She is so witty._

_And every boy loves her titties_

And described her 'servicing' a French student while her idiot boyfriend wondering what became of her. Neville (who knew what Harry was talking about, the events of the previous school year's Yule Ball) was laughing so hard he almost slammed into the ground. The rest of the platoon liked it and after Harry sang it solo a couple of times, were soon bellowing it enthusiastically. Even Alex liked it, and yelled to Harry, "You'd make a damn good soldier, Harry! Christ knows you can talk like one!"

Yet their amusement was cut short as Dick yelled, "Civilians ahead! Shut it as we take tea break." Sure enough, near the small stream where they planned on having their break, there appeared to be large family. Harry, whose hearing was pretty good, could swear he knew them judging by their voices.

"…But his birthday"

He couldn't hear any more as the platoon moved downstream of the group. Looking towards them, he spotted a group of about ten people having a picnic under a tree nearest the stream. While he couldn't make out any features, he noticed there were at least three women in the group. Harry suddenly had a crazy idea.

Waiting until the platoon stopped to have tea in a rocky field about two hundred meters away from the family, Harry went up to Neville and Dudley and explained his idea. Neville seemed game for it while Dudley told them he'd like to watch, at least this time around. Not deterred, Harry went over to his uncle Alex and Neville's Uncle Dick. "Hey, Uncle, you mind if me and Neville go over and chat up a few girls? You know, the ones over with that family over there." He pointed towards the oak tree upstream where the family was picnicking. Alex and Dick looked at him and both laughed, "You got a lot of balls lad, trying to sweet talk a girl in front of her whole family!" Alex stopped, stifling a few more laughs, "Ah go on, we'll call you when it is time to move out. Just make sure you freshen up and change into them barracks dress trousers, side-cap, and lace-ups I told you to bring." He was referring to a uniform of dark green trousers that looked like slacks and were usually worn when out on the town by the troops. Alex had told them to carry them, an extra khaki shirt, black socks, their lace-up oxfords, and their side-caps in a plastic bag on the off chance they decided to visit a village during their exercise.

Harry and Neville nodded enthusiastically and took off. Fifteen minutes later (they had needed that long to strip off their combat dress uniforms, wash behind some rocks downstream, and change into their other uniforms), Harry and Neville were walking up towards the oak tree. Both of them had on khaki shirts, over which they had on olive green 'wooly-pulley' sweaters with officer cadet rank insignia pinned on. Harry liked his side-cap for it was large enough to cover his scar. Behind them, Harry knew the rest of the platoon was watching them (Tom Courtenay had even gone so far as to start a small pool if they would get a phone number, a kiss, or a romp in the bushes).  

Harry and Neville both were calm as they headed towards the group. _After nearly being castrated and gutted_, Harry thought wryly, _how hard could chatting up a girl be? Surely not as hard as asking Cho out._ Harry's thoughts were stopped as he saw who the family was, and then he grinned. Neville gasped also as he recognized the family, and muttered, "Harry, isn't that…" 

Harry had on a smile as he muttered through the side of his mouth, "Shut up and follow me, Nev." Starting to grin, he could see who it was.

Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie, his old friend Ron, Hermione Granger, Ginny, and…Colin Creevey? _What the fuck is he doing here,_ Harry thought to himself. While Harry was surprised to see his old friends (as well as group of people who were more of a family to him then the Dursleys, excluding the 'New' Dudley), Harry finally noticed that over the year Ginny had changed into… _A woman_. Harry decided. _Sure, fourteen is young, but what the fuck, I'm fifteen myself. _Instead of a small, frightened girl, Ginny had filled out and curved in all the right places over the last year, with high full breasts, an hourglass figure, and a smiling beautiful face topped by a halo of fiery hair. Harry's breath stopped in his throat, but he shrugged it off, _This is your best mate's sister, so knock it off dickhead._ Noticing that the conversation had stopped as they came up to the tree, Harry grinned and spoke first, knowing he was taking a page out of his uncle Alex's book.

"Hello, Ron, Hermione, you how's it been? You missed me?" Ron and Hermione merely looked at him. Still walking, he turned to Bill, "Hey Bill, still got that earring with the fang? And hey Charlie, still playing with dragons?" Turning to Fred and George, "Fred, George, you have to tell me how's business with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." Turning to Mrs. Weasley, "Hello Mrs. Weasley, I hope you are well?" Mrs. Weasley was staring at him wide-eyed. 

"Mr. Weasley, how are things at the Ministry, still chaotic with Fudge being a moron and Crouch dead? I see Percy isn't here with us?" Arthur Weasley looked as though he was in shock. Finally, Harry turned to Ginny and Colin. Flashing a smile, he looked at Ginny, and spoke, "'Lo Ginny?" Something sparked in her eyes, and Harry winked but continued on as he nodded a greeting to Colin and spoke, "Colin."

Mr. Weasley asked the question first, "Er, who are you, young man?" Harry shook his head and smiled, "You mean you don't know me, Mr. Weasley? Do you, Ma'am?" This was to Molly Weasley. She shook her head. Fred asked, "Who are you? And how do you know who we are?" Grinning, he turned to Ron and Hermione, "I hope you two know who I am?" They shook their heads too, and Hermione looked as though she were going to say something when Harry turned to Ginny. "Surely you remember me, Ginny?" Harry was grinning still, as he was enjoying himself immensely. 

Ginny looked at him and asked hesitantly, "Harry?" Mrs. Weasley looked at her, "Don't be foolish Ginny! Harry is away with his uncle, we can't contact him via owl post, and there is no telling where in Wales they are." Harry replied dryly, "Right here in Wales, Ma'am." With that, he took off his side-cap and revealed the lightning scar on his forehead.   
  


All of them gasped while Ginny and Harry laughed. Neville was grinning, having enjoyed the whole show from a distance back. Smiling, Harry took a seat on the cloth and listened while Hermione asked the first question, "Harry, what are you doing in the Army?" Harry and Neville laughed as Harry told of what had happened to him since summer break began, omitting only yesterday's firefight. Mrs. Weasley wanted to know how his uncle was treating him, and was gladdened to hear that his time away from the Dursley's was good for him. Harry finished his tale quickly, telling them of how him and Dudley had ended up being friends.

"So, to top it off, me and my cousin, well, he's changed and really isn't a bad sort. Anymore, anyways." Fred and George, who had once given Dudley a toffee that had made his tongue grow, both snorted. Harry leaned back on and asked seriously, "Mr. Weasley, what is the situation out there? You know, of Voldemort?" Seeing all cringe, he hastily corrected himself, "You-Know-Who I mean? I haven't received a single owl from anyone. What has happened?" Arthur grimaced and spoke, "Nothing much. There have been no major attacks, and the story is still not out about Diggory's death and You-Know-Who's return. Rita Skeeter has been surprisingly silent." Harry grinned towards Ron and Hermione, as he knew Hermione had blackmailed Skeeter into shutting up over the last year. 

Arthur continued, "Fudge has been going on saying it was a freak accident, though Amos has been transferred to a new unit under the direct control of Fudge. Apparently, it's sole purpose is to investigate any possible sightings of You-Know-Who, Sirius Black, and other possible Dark subversives." Harry spoke up, "I thought that was the duty of Aurors?" Arthur sighed, "Normally it is, but Fudge doesn't wish a real investigation. He wants a cover-up, and that is what Diggory is giving him, even going so far as to launch a new hunt for Sirius Black." Harry cringed at slightly at this but Arthur continued, "Anyhow, the only real news is that the body of Bertha Jorkins was recovered from Albania, and Karkaroff has been found dead in Ireland. Apparently, the story according to the Artemis West, the chief of the Auror's Division, is that he may have been tortured to death by the 'remaining' Death Eater elements." Harry, who had killed his first man (Professor Quirrell not withstanding) the other day, shrugged it off and asked, "Nothing else?" Arthur shook his head, "No, all quiet."

Harry mulled this information for a moment, and then turned to Colin, "So what brings you out to the wilds of Wales, Colin?" Harry had a sinking idea what it was, but decided to hear it out. Colin looked down at his feet, and said, "Well, me and Gins have been, well…" Harry decided to help him out, "You and Ginny have gotten together?" Colin seemed to be staring intently at his shoes while Ginny was blushing. Inwardly, Harry was thinking _Well, Harry, another time you have fucked the duck by waiting too damn long_. Outwardly, he smiled and continued (hoping he had learned how to keep a poker face capably, as taught by Books Fielding, the platoon card shark, had taught him earlier), "Congrats Colin, Ginny."  

Almost in the same breath, he asked Hermione of her own summer break, trying to change the subject. Hermione told him of the three-week trip to Bulgaria with her parents as guests of Victor Krumm, and at the end Krumm and her had departed as friends. She had returned a week ago to visit the Weasleys, who had then taken her to Wales, where Charles had received his transfer to from Hungary to work with . Harry couldn't help but notice, nevertheless, how jealous Ron looked whenever Victor Krum was mentioned. As soon as she was finished, Ron started on about his beloved Chudley Cannons and the Quidditch season.

The Quidditch season reminded Harry of something. He asked Fred and George, "Do you know what happened of Bagman?" The twins grinned, "Indeed we do. We sent a message to the goblins he owed money to and bought off his debts using the capital you loaned us." Harry wasn't surprised by the fact that they continued to call his gift a loan, but he didn't feel like fighting over it. "So, when Bagman came out of hiding, we've been using him as a marketing source. It got so big we've gone into partnership with Zonko. He likes a lot of our ideas and doesn't mind at all that we have another year at Hogwarts." Fred and George continued speaking of several ideas, but it was cut short as Harry heard a whistle playing long, two second whistles. This was the old Rifle call for them to fall back, and Alex had told Harry that that was the signal for them to return to the platoon.

Getting up, he said goodbye to the Weasley Family, and Colin as Neville did like-wise. Mrs. Weasley came up and kissed him on the cheek, "Do you think you'll be able to visit us sometime this summer Harry?" Harry nodded, "In the letter, Dumbledore told me I had to stay with my Uncle for seven weeks out of eight during the summer holidays, so I should be able to visit the last week before school starts." Mrs. Weasley understood, and Hermione gave him a kiss as well before they all waved goodbye. Harry winked playfully towards Ginny, who started to blush.

Walking back, Harry and Neville were greeted by the ironic cheers of the platoon, as Alex asked, "So, enjoy visiting the Weasleys? And your friend Ms. Granger?" Harry looked at him askew for a moment, until he remembered that Alex had carried with him a pair of German binoculars. Harry grinned, "Yeah, it was good." With that, Alex clapped him on the back and told him, Neville and Dudley to gather after they changed.

Once they had done so, Dick Longbottom took the platoon picture. Afterwards, they marched through the valley and over the hills to Dwrryn camp, taking only an hour. There, they washed up, changed into No.2 Dress (a more formal, khaki parade dress uniform) and another picture was taken. Neville, Harry, and Dudley then turned in their uniforms and gear (less the paratroop smocks that they had been given) and said goodbye to the men who had become a second family to them. Addresses were given, and the lads were told to keep in touch. Longbottom embraced his cousin Neville and told him and the others, "Stick next to Alex there," pointing to Alex, "he'll see you right."

Tom Courtenay, on behalf of the platoon, came up to them as they were preparing to board the Beaver that would take them back to Army Airfield D290 and gave them each a packet of latex condoms and the reminder (for he was the unit womanizer, and had taken the lads under his wing and tutoring them in the ways of women), "Remember lads, always treat a lady, for all ladies from the lowest whore to the most innocent virgin, with kindness and courtesy and they will treat you like kings. And be sure to wear one of these unless you want your cock to one day fall off covered in lesions."

All of them were still laughing about it during the flight back.


	10. Chapter X: The Ways of the World

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets.

Warning: Following Chapter has scenes of sex (male/female), adult situations, and whoring involved. Viewer discretion advised and if any of that offends you, or you are not mature (i.e. 17 years old) enough to read it, don't go any further.

Note: July 18, 04, had to chop out a chunk of the sex as a reviewer advised me that the powers that be might find what I had written too explicit. If things seem a mit stilted, that was because I had lose about three hundred words, and change things.

**Chapter X: The Ways of the World **

Arriving back at the airfield, the boys and Alex loaded up in Alex's black Land Rover and drove back to Privet Drive. The lads were boisterous and laughing, Neville in particular as he was, for the first time, enjoying something else besides his latest fumbling, with Alex playing another one of his U2 cassettes.

When they pulled into the driveway of Alex's house at eight in the evening, Dudley told them he had to check in with his parent's, but he would be back soon. Alex commented dryly, "No doubt he is wondering what presents his parents sent to him, and why he didn't receive them?"

Turning to Neville and Harry, "No doubt he isn't aware how atrocious the Wizard-Muggle Postage Exchange System is in regards to actually getting mail to muggles."

Harry laughed as he helped Neville carry his trunk (Neville's grandmother had had his trunk with all of his school year stuff, as well as wizard funds to purchase the next year's books and required items for the next year when he had left with his Uncle Dick) out of the car and towards the door.

Alex knocked and entered as it opened. Harry had his back turned as he entered, but as soon as he turned around, he was greeted with a loud "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY!" Harry grinned and ran as he yelled, "SIRIUS!"

Sure enough, his godfather Sirius Black was standing there smiling as Harry ran up and embraced him. He looked fine and fit, his hair neatly trimmed. "You've grown, Harry!" Laughing, Harry looked around. Besides Alex's housekeeper Linda Soames, there was Remus Lupin, and most surprisingly, Mrs. Figgs, the neighborhood cat lady, and…_Mad Eye Moody!_ Harry thought.

Sure enough, it the scarred visage of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, minus part of his nose and ear, one of his eyes fake, and a wooden leg. Clunking over, he spoke in the gruff tone Harry remembered (even though the tone had been of Barty Crouch's son, the Death Eater in Hogwarts who had placed the real Moody under the Imperius curse and locked him in Moody's own magical trunk), "Happy Birthday, Mr. Potter. And thank you."

"Just Harry, sir, and why thank you?"

"Were it not for you unmasking young Crouch, I'd either be dead, or locked in my own trunk under the Imperius Curse." Moody made it sound as though such events happened to him every day.

Harry could only nod his head, but was saved from further discomfort as Mrs. Figgs came up, "Hello Harry, we've met, but I don't think…"

"That I know you are a witch named Arabella Figg? I know, ma'am."

She starred at him intently, "How did you know, did anyone tell you…"

"No ma'am, just that I knew you had to be wizard related after some clues you has left out over the years."

Figg, a tall, gray-haired lady who bore a remarkable similarity to PM Margaret Thatcher, asked Harry curiously, "Tell me how, then? I'm interested to see your skills as an investigator."

Harry looked at her, "Well, it has taken me a while but now a lot of your eccentricities have fallen into place. Also, I wouldn't be such an investigator without the talents of a friend of mine named Hermione Granger. Now, your large collection of cats: cats are one of the most popular pets in the wizard world. Second, when I was at the World Cup, I noticed the tent we were in had the same style upholstery as your own. Not to mention the overpowering scent of cats. When I was younger, I remember you broke a leg, but healed rather quickly for a woman of your years. Finally, Figg isn't exactly a common name, so once I heard Figg mentioned in the marching orders he gave to Sirius after my…incident last June, I realized who you were."

Figgs smiled, "You would make an excellent Auror, Harry. Anyhow, happy birthday."

Remus Lupin came up and shook Harry's hand, "Happy birthday, Harry! It seems Wales agreed with you?" Harry laughed and agreed that it did. Alex, who had been watching the whole scene with Linda on his arm, smiled and stepped up.

"Well, it has been a long day, so why don't we re-freshen ourselves, yes? Harry, Neville why don't you go to the study for a few minutes? And don't worry," he was waving towards Neville's luggage, "I'll cache it with Harry and Neville's kit."

Linda waved them to her and they moved down the main hallway and into a master bedroom that had been turned into a study with some bookcases, a desk, and a coffee table and chairs set. There was another smaller fireplace also in the study. On the table were a set of china that smelled of tea, and a plate of chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies. Waving at them, "Go ahead and have some. It shouldn't take long, so save some room for the cake." She smiled and went back to the living room.

Harry looked around while Neville poured himself a cup of tea. The bookcases had a wide and varied selection of titles, ranging from muggle texts such as _The First Folio Edition of Shakespeare's Works_ and _The Seven Military Classics of China_ to _Quidditch__ through the Ages_ and _A__ History of the Goblin Rebellion of 1612-1618_. On his desk was a photo frame, and on the mantle of the fireplace were several other framed photographs.

Looking at the photograph on the desk, Harry was surprised to see that it contained a magical photograph of a beautiful, dark-haired girl in what looked (since the photo was in black and white and was hard to tell) like the colors of Gryffindor. She was young, no more then seventeen it appeared, but she was smiling and blowing kisses towards the camera. Her face was heart-faced and her eyes seemed to be radiating a vivacious aura. On the base of the frame was the legend, _Elizabeth Falkirk_.

Deciding to ask his uncle of her later, Harry examined the photographs on the wall. One showed a very young, boyish Alex standing next to an older girl in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was quite obvious that it had been taken on the day he was sorted into Hogwarts for Harry could see the Sorting Hat in the background. Looking closely, Harry saw that it was his mother, Lilly, when she had been…_Third Year at least_, Harry thought. The second photograph showed Alex standing with Sirius, Remus, and Harry's dad at the inn in Hogsmeade. The trio was obviously showing the young Alex the town as the Sirius, James, and Remus were standing around a shy Alex, bottles of Butterbeer on the table.

The third photo showed Alex embracing the same girl in the photo on his desk, with both of them looking at the camera in pure delight and joy. Both had on dress robes, and appeared to be fancied up. A smaller notation on the photograph was the legend, _Yule Ball-1978-Fifth Year._ Harry wondered just who this Elizabeth Falkirk was, when he heard Neville gasp. Looking over, Harry saw that Neville had joined him inlooking at the photographs on the wall and was staring wide-eyed and slightly open-mouthed at a photograph next to the one of Alex and Elizabeth. Looking at it, Harry asked, "What's wrong, Neville?" Neville pointed to one of the picture, and said shaking, "My father is in that one on the left."

The photograph in question showed a group of three wizards standing outside of the gate at Hogwarts. One was definitely an older Alex, though he still wore the uniform of Hogwarts. Harry guessed he was in his sixth or seventh year at the time. On either side of him was a wizard dressed in black robes; though these were really half robes (the ones that looked like muggle judges robes) that showed the men were wearing standard muggle black business suits with black neckties. All three of them were smiling. The one on the left was Neville's father Frank Longbottom; the one on the right was…_Moody!_

Harry took a closer look. Sure enough, it was Mad-Eye himself, though in this one he had both of his legs, and his nose appeared to be intact.

By now, Harry was really curious about his uncle. Remembering the bird in the room with the owls, Harry knew Alex had to have been involved with Sirius's hiding out during the summer between his third and fourth years. _Just what the hell is he? And what is he doing?_

As Harry pondered those questions, he looked at the final pictures on the mantle of the fireplace. There were only two of them left: one was dated _1982_ and showed Alex with Dick Longbottom and two other paras (whom Harry assumed were Nicky Totensham and Tommy Cooper) posing in Barracks Trousers and khaki shirts as they were about to board a ship. The final picture showed Alex wearing the insignia of the Green Jackets and three pips of a Captain on a desert uniform and holding up a flag of some sort. It was dated, _Iraq-1991_.

Neville continued to stare at the photograph and spoke to Harry, "Harry, can I tell you something?" Harry said, "Sure, Nev, what is it?" He already had a sinking feeling what Neville was going to talk about.

Looking at the photograph, "Harry, when I was about two years old, my parents were…" He paused and seemed to have a hard time speaking. Neville's were starting to silver with tears.

Harry walked up to him and put his arm around his shoulder, "Nev, I already know of what happened to them." Neville looked at him blankly, "How?" Harry explained as quickly as possible of discovering the pensieve, and Dumbeldore's thoughts. Harry finally finish and asked, "Are they always the same? They never improve?"

Neville looked at the coffee table, as they had eventually taken seats on the sofa, for a minute before he could speak. "No, they don't. My mother received the most of the torture, and she routinely has to be kept under sedation else she would kill herself. As for my father, " Neville sighed as he brought his hand up to his eyes. "My father, while he can speak, doesn't know me, or my grandmother, or Uncle Dick, or anyone." Neville finally broke down and started sobbing. Harry held onto him and gave him a handkerchief after a minute.

"You feel any better?"

Neville wiped his face and nodded.

Harry decided to speak to him. "Nev, I think I ought to tell you that I envy you." Neville looked at him with blood-shot eyes. Harry sighed and continued, "You see, I've never wept for my parents, as I was so young when they died. I can barely remember their voices. Also," Harry paused, contemplating what he was going to say.

"Courtenay once told me this line he had read in this muggle book about the speeches of a man named Cicero, one which has special bearing on your parents, Nev."

Harry looked at Neville and said, "Cicero said, "Where there is life, there is hope." Do you know what I mean?"

Neville nodded, and asked, "Harry, could you…"

Harry replied, "I won't let anyone else know, you have my word."

Neville nodded and both of them started talking of a funny story that they had heard while in Wales. Linda then came into the room and told them, "Okay, young gentlemen, follow me."

She led both of them to the living room where Dudley had joined them. A pile of presents was on the coffee table. Sirius spoke to Harry, " Go ahead and open them, we all bought you one. Your friends mailed them here this morning." On the nearby kitchen table were drinks and various baked goods.

Picking one up a large, square box, Harry opened it to find that it contained a gift from Mad-Eye Moody. The device was a black, steel bracelet, iron ring, and what looked like a hollowed-out piece of sponge. Moody explained, "Harry, this is a standard Auror covert magical communication set. The ring is the receiver, and the bracelet is the transmitter. You place the microphone, the thing that looks like a sponge into one of your ears, and you'll be able to hear the communications."

Moody then clumped over and showed him how it was done. Harry put it back, and then went on to open the other presents. Fred and George had sent him a package of magically enchanted sweets (including, much to Dudley's discomfort, a bag of what were labeled as Ton-Tongue Toffees) with the note; _The first few items of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Inc._ Hermione, ever thoughtful, had given him a small chest she had bought in Bulgaria, explaining in a note that it was designed to hold any treasures he placed in it and open only to people he told the box to open to. It was just the right size to fit in his pistol case, and his dagger.

Ron had sent him a signed magical poster of Oliver Wood and his Quidditch team, (Oliver Wood had been the Gryffindor Quidditch captain for the first three years Harry was at school). Mrs. Weasley had sent him a huge chocolate birthday cake with fifteen candles smoking in fifteen different colors and a batch of her homemade toffee. Neville seemed embarrassed slightly about his gift as it turned out to be a scrapbook of the three years Harry had been playing Quidditch, including victory at the Quidditch Cup, yet Harry was nonetheless touched. Mrs. Figg's gift was more serious one in that contained a portable Foe-Glass/ and pocket watch set, one that gave a very small image on the cover of the watch.

When she gave him the Foe-Glass, Harry asked her, "So tell me Mrs. Figg, what is it that you do? Ministry of Magic, Department of Law Enforcement?"

Mrs. Figg laughed, "Once, but I was retired around the same time as Alastor over there. Not many of the old-group around."

"Old Group?"

"Yes, we were the Order of the Phoenix, and we compromised the best wizards in the Department. Our mission was rather simple according to old Minister of Magic Appscott: Hunt down You-Know-Who and bring him in."

She paused as Moody interrupted, "You saved us the trouble, though it was a shame that afterwards Alex over there had to leave over Sirius."

"Open another present, Harry."

This was the relaxed voice of Uncle Alex. Harry felt otherwise, and even as he opened another present (this one was from Remus Lupin and was a black leather journal/organizer that made told, in a voice that sounded like Remus's, of any assignments he may have forgotten.), he asked his uncle a question that had been nagging him for a while.

"Uncle, what was that picture of you, Mr. Moody, and Neville's father of?"

Moody looked at Alex sharply, "You mean you didn't tell him of you being one of the best, and youngest, Aurors we have ever had?"

Harry was stunned, _If he enlisted in the Army when he was 19, then he still must have been in school when he became an Auror!,_ Harry thought to himself.

Alex sighed and took a sip from the glass of iced tea he had in one hand. His wizard eye (he had worn a glass one while they had been in Wales) was spinning slowly. "No, I didn't. What was in the past happened in the past. No use bringing up my career, short as it was."

Harry asked, "Career? You were an Auror?" Considering how his uncle acted, and how much magic he knew, Harry wasn't totally surprised.

Alex nodded, "Yes, I was, and to save on the trouble of having you constantly ask me about it, I'll tell you anyways."

His eyes seemed to go vacant as he spoke, "When I was in my seventh year at Hogwarts, the Ministry recruited several students in my year who had the top scores in Potions, Defense against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy. I fell into three of those categories and was picked up by Alastor over there." He waved towards Mad-Eye. "Under his tutelage, I became a badged Auror and worked several minor cases."

Moody snorted whilst Figg gave him a scathing look and spoke. "Minor? Were it not for you we would never have bagged Mulciber, and the Lestrades would never have been captured by Moody if you hadn't arrested Pines and used the Cruciatus on him!"

Alex stared at Figg. "Tell me," he asked icily, "was that idiot Fudge, and that lunatic, Nazi Crouch interested in my opinion when it came around to Sirius Black over there? Or over the 'Five' case?"

Moody laughed, "No, they didn't and I don't suppose you gave them any choice in the matter either. Crouch didn't like being called a rabid dog in front of the courts, and Fudge never liked you because you were from a muggle family."

Harry asked another question, "Who is Elizabeth Falkirk?"

For once, the room stopped as all of the adults stopped joking around. Harry saw a flash of pain or anguish cross over his uncle's face before it disappeared. Alex looked at him and replied in his normal, confidant tone, "She was a friend, a close one. AND that is all you need to know for now Harry." He stared at Harry and then looked around.

Alex finished the conversation then, "Now, that unpleasentry is over," his tone indicating that the subject best be dropped, "open your other presents, Harry."

Harry decided to let the matter drop for the moment as he opened Dudley's gift. Inside were a CD player with black head-phones and fourteen CDs, consisting of jazz, classic rock (U2, with some Fleetwood Mac and Led Zepplin), and movie soundtracks for _The Last of the Mohicans,_ _Cocktail, _and _High Plains Drifter_. Dudley was rather embarrassed by his gift, "Sorry, Harry, but my mum and dad were shocked when I called you my cousin and was putting together this gift. I had to use my last CD player and chose some stuff I thought you would like." Dudley was still trying to make amends for the last fifteen years of being a prat.

Harry smiled, "Don't sweat it, Duds, I really appreciate this gift, even though I can only use on break when I'm back here." Grinning, he laughed, "Still, if you would forgive my language Mrs. Figg and Linda, it will still put a burr up your mum and dad's collective asses over this." All of them laughed as the remaining tension from a few moments earlier drained off, with Dudley joining in whole-heartedly.

The next present was from Alex, and it was a large flat box. Wondering what it was, Harry gave an inquisitive glance towards Alex. Alex told him, "Go on Harry, you won't know what it is until you open it."

Harry unwrapped it and it turned out to be a complete suit of muggle clothes. It was a black, undecorated suit with black overcoat, vest, three white cotton shirts, and two neckties: one black, and one in the Gryffindor colors of red and gold. Underneath it was a pair of black, lace-up oxfords in their own separate box. In another box was a black felt fedora.

His uncle came up to him and asked, "You like it Harry?" Harry nodded, as this was the finest set he had ever been given, excluding his wizard robes. Alex nodded, and pointed to two other boxes, "Neville, Dudley, those belong to you." The boys opened them to discover they had their own suits, with the only difference being that while Harry had gotten a fedora, Dudley had gotten a homburg while Neville had a bowler that looked a lot like Alex's derby.

Alex, after giving the lads a moment or two to admire their new clothes, then ordered them to wash up and change into them, pointing out that there were two bathrooms in house. Nodding, the boys went upstairs where Harry and Neville used the main one (Harry went first, while Neville waited outside) and Dudley the one in the upstairs' main bedroom.

Washing and shaving quickly, Harry was out in ten minutes as he put on his new clothes. Within thirty minutes, all three of the boys were admiring themselves in their new outfits. Harry had to admit that while he normally didn't like to wear a tie (he hated having to wear one with his wizard robes) the suits they had on were very comfortable. Together, the trio went downstairs where they were greeted by Linda saying, "Hello handsome gentlemen!" It was obvious that their new clothes impressed all. Alex looked at them with his one good eye, and nodded to Harry, "Open your next present, Harry, as it affects all of you."

Wondering just what it was, Harry opened the gift from Sirius. It turned out to be a book, but not just anyone. On the cover was the title, _The Young Wizard's Guide to Contraception and Protection against Veneral Diseases, Hexes, and Curses_.Harry, who had been given a pep talk by Tom Courtenay and the other men in Second Platoon, looked to Sirius, "Sirius, I appreciate the gift, but I already know of the 'birds and the bees' and how to protect myself. Bit late on that counts." Sirius laughed, "Maybe on telling you of what women and men do, but I don't think you know how to protect yourself by magic, do you?"

Harry had to shake his head, and started to feel uncomfortable as he noticed Linda and Mrs. Figg were still sitting with them chatting away. Arabella Figg must have noticed his discomfort as she said, "Don't worry, Harry nothing here we haven't heard, or seen before. If you really are uncomfortable, would you like me and Linda to leave whilst you talk?"

Harry sheepishly nodded, and listened as the four older men told them of the various potions and charms used to ensure they didn't catch any of the varied VD out there, as well as to ensure that any girl they slept with didn't get in the family way. As Sirius put it, "It isn't right to create a life and just leave it out there. If you want a kid, then marry the woman and get it over with, but until then use the Contraceptive Potion. The Eros Potion or the Aphrodite Charm is to be used if you don't want your cock to fall off."

The discussion on the various methods both magical and muggle used to protect oneself in sex continued for a few more minutes until Alex spoke to Sirius, "Sirius, how old was I when you and Remus took me to that house in Soho? I know I was at least their age because Lilly and James were together so that made you, seventh year?" Sirius looked at him strangely for a moment until Remus laughed, "Yes you were, you were fifteen and me and old Prongs, who together with Sirius and I found it when _we_ were fifteen, took you there for _your_ birthday." Sirius's face finally had comprehension as he laughed, "Yeah, now I remember! We took you to Meg's wasn't it?" Alex laughed, and spoke, "Say, why don't we take these young bucks over there? Heaven knows the earlier you introduce them, the more responsible they will be?" Sirius and Remus glanced at each other, while Alastor looked on amused. Remus spoke first, "I don't think that would be possible for me since it was all over the _Daily_ _Prophet_ when it came out I was a werewolf, and as for Sirius," he held up his hands. Alex nodded, and turned to Moody, "You want to go for a trip, Alastor?" Moody laughed and shook his head, "No thank you, a man my age and with my kind of wounds will embarrass himself at a place like that." Alex shrugged and motioned to the boys, "All right lads, say thank you to everyone and let's go."

Harry asked, "Where to, uncle?" as he went to the kitchen to thank Mrs. Figg and Linda.

Alex gave his leering grin, "Why grand old London town of course."

An hour later, the boys and Harry were exiting a hunter green Saab Scania parked outside of a middle-sized three-story, Victorian era brick building. They had driven there in Alex's other car, and had finally parked in a quiet area of Soho. All four of them were smartly dressed in suits and ties. Looking at them, Harry had to admit they were in perfect camouflage as there were plenty of business types hanging around several of the buildings. "Stay close, lads," Alex warned, "There are enough degenerate queers, ass bandits, and boy fuckers around that they'll eat you alive and give you HIV as soon as spit. Not here, but a couple of blocks over. So stay on the main roads, and if you have to fight, try not to let their blood get on you. Fucking skinheads knew what the hell they were talking about when they inventing booting." Alex was referring to something he had seen on _60_ _Minutes_ where a skinhead had given the sagely advice of not punching a homosexual for that could led to cuts, and cuts led to HIV-infected blood getting on you, and possibly in you.

For that reason, all three had their Fairbairns strapped on (along with black leather gloves to protect their hands from blood). In addition, each of them carried either a telescoping baton (a telescoping rod of steel, very popular ever since Clint Eastwood used one in the movie _In the Line of Fire_.) in their pockets, or a tazer. Harry had stuck with the belief only blunt trauma ensured a man went down and stayed down. After all, a tazer might only piss him off.

Locking the doors, Alex led them to the door and used the iron doorknocker. Almost immediately, a woman wearing a low-cut, fashionable green evening gown came up. "May I help you sir?" She asked in a melodic, pleasant voice. At 5'5" she was an average woman in height, shorter then Harry by an inch, yet she had a sweet face of hazel eyes, and a magnificent head of tawny, brown hair that was pinned up on the back of her head. The dress was a dark, lush green that was full skirted, and had a low cut, V-neck that pushed her breasts up. Harry, couldn't keep his eyes off of her, and wasn't surprised to see that Dudley and Neville had the same situation as he did.

Alex smiled, "Tell Meg Alex Evans is here to see her, my dear." The woman smiled, "Oh no need for that, Mr. Evans. Ms. Meg has told the girls many stories of you, and to welcome you should you ever come here." Alex laughed, "All good stories I hope, Ms…?" The brunette replied, "Oh, interesting ones. Are these young gentlemen here with you?" She motioned towards Harry and company, all of whom had taken off their hats and were waiting patiently outside the door. Alex nodded. "Yes, they are with me, may we enter?" The woman stepped aside, and allowed them to enter.

Harry entered to a sight that quite impressed him. He entered into what appeared to be a bar, with a white-jacketed bartender serving drinks behind a long counter. Judging from the fact that there were mix of muggle clothes and wizard robes, Harry guessed that this establishment served members of the wizard world. Judging from the fact that there had been a door person, the clothing ensure that this was just a regular brothel to the average muggle observer, and any muggle could be turned away by the door man. Harry's suspicions were confirmed as he watched the barkeep mix a drink using a wand. Looking around, he saw many finely dressed and equally beautiful women around various men either dancing on the dance floor (where one ghost dressed in tuxedo was playing a piano, and another a violin) or drinking with various customers.

Harry's observations were interrupted as a tall, lithe woman came up and embraced Uncle Alex, where she then said, "Been a long time Alex? Miss me?" Alex grinned, as he held on to her for a moment, "Always Meg. I read from a Ministry report that you became Madam after old lady Sullivan retired to Dublin, so I had to see how the place was." He turned to toward the three, and waved to them. "These are relatives, or a relative of a friend. I would appreciate it if you and your girls could help them learn the ways of this world." Meg smiled, "The way you were when you were fifteen and I was eighteen?" Alex grinned, "Oh, yes. Just like that. Before I introduce them, do you have anywhere private?"

Meg grinned, "I have a suite of four rooms used for high-rollers, but I'll let the rooms slide so long as you can pay the usual fee Now, let's finish this up there shall we?" It was then she noticed Harry's lightning bolt shaped scar. No one had noticed earlier as the place was filled with people too busy with their own pleasures to notice, but Harry was worried that her gasp would cause the whole place to start staring at him. Meg was looking at him opened mouthed and asked Alex, "Alex, is that …" Alex waved her off, "Upstairs, Meg, and I'll properly introduce them." Meg nodded and told them to follow her and the woman who had greeted them at the door. Harry had taken off his jacket, and slung it over his shoulder in such a way his hand was on his head and covering his scar.

Quickly, they walked up to the second floor, and then to the third. There, she led them into a suite of four rooms, which were connected by a sitting room (with fireplace) and kitchen. Each separate room had a four-poster bed, a small table with lamp, an enchanted CD player that sat atop a small wet bar, and connected to a toilet and bathtub/shower combination. Harry hadn't much of an eye for upholstery, but even he could tell someone with nice tastes had arranged the room as all was pleasant to look at and inviting.

As soon as they entered, an additional couple of girls entered. One was a tall, blonde-haired girl with cornflower blue eyes with a dress to match, while the other was a short, vivacious black-haired Irish girl who seemed the personification of saucy. Both of them looked at the boys appraisingly, though both started whispering and giggling to each other once they saw Harry and his scar. The woman who had answered the door merely looked at Harry, and then turned her attention back to Madam Meg. Meg introduced the girls, "Gentlemen, these are Edna, Alice, and Deirdre. Deirdre is the Irish one, while Edna is the blond. Alice is the young lady who answered the door. Now, Alex will you please introduce these young men to my ladies?" Alex nodded, "Well, the one who looks like a blond-haired John Bull is one of my nephews Dudley Dursley." Dudley, somewhat uncomfortable in the presence of such beautiful women, croaked, "Uh, 'ello"

"The stocky lad with the dark brown hair is my best friend's nephew Neville Longbottom." Neville tried to talk, but couldn't (much to the amusement of the ladies). "Last but not least is my other and rather infamous nephew, Harry Potter." Harry suddenly felt a strange calm come over him, much the same way it had during a Quidditch game or during the firefight in Wales.

Grinning, he stepped forward, and bowed, "Hello, ladies." The women tittered, though Alice merely looked at him, though this time she had on a smile to got with her looks. Harry knew that given the chance he was going to pick her, as he had pushed aside thoughts of Cho out of his head, only the thought of how it would feel _feeling_ Alice.

Alex and Meg had watched the whole bit with a bit of amusement in their eyes. Meg asked them, "Well, gentlemen, don't be shy. Pick the lady you wish to spend the evening with." The trio looked at each other, then Harry shrugged, "Right, last name alpha order. Duds, you go first." Dudley looked at the women, smiled, and went up to Edna. "Hello, Miss." Edna threw back her head and laughed. "Well, you certainly are polite." With that she took him by his arm and led him into one of the rooms.

Harry looked over at Neville, "Nev." Neville went up to Deirdre. "Hello, ma'am," he croaked out. It was obvious from his voice and his blushing that he wasn't used to soliciting the favors of a 'scarlet woman'. Deirdre looked at him, and smiled, "Well, at least you can talk now." Grabbing his hand, she started pulling him towards one of the rooms, saying, "Don't worry, I don't bite, unless you want me to." Neville must have found some courage at the last minute for Harry saw him sliding a hand around Deirdre's waist and start sliding lower as their door closed.

Harry looked across to Alice, and stepped towards, "Guess that leaves just us miss." With that he stepped forward, lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed it. Alice looked at him for a moment, and then spoke, "My, you are certainly polite. Follow me" Alex, who had an arm on the shoulders of Meg, grinned at Harry, "Have a pleasant evening, Harry. And happy fifteenth."

Harry wrapped an arm around one of Alice's and took her into one of the rooms, and gently closed the door. Alice had gone over to the small lamp table and was unpinning the earrings she wore. Harry held up a hand, and spoke gently, "Not yet." She paused, hand still on the earring, and looked at him inquisitively. Harry went over to the CD player on its stand, and turned it on. A CD of mixed classic rock and pop came on. Harry pulled one of the chairs in the room up to the table and motioned for her to sit. As she did so, Harry pulled over the other chair and spoke to her.

"Before you and I, uh…"

"Fuck?" Alice asked conversationally.

Harry looked at her and continued, "Yes, before we do, I want to talk to you, learn a bit about you."

This time Alice laughed, and with a bitter edge to it. "Harry, I'm a whore or courtesan, depending on your preferences, paid for by your uncle for you to enjoy for the evening. If you think that by talking to me is romantic, let me tell you…"

"Not to love a whore? It's not that I feel for you like that, and while I do want you to physically pleasure me, but it would please me just as much to put a face a personality with the face."

She stopped, and looked at him. "You want to be a friend to me? Why?"

The song _Call Me _was playing in the background.

Harry looked at her in the eye, "It would please me to do so. Isn't that enough of an answer for you? Or would it please you to know that a bit of conversation with a woman would help my state of mind? That I saw a good man get killed in front of my eyes because of my actions?" Harry was worried he was going to lose control, and stopped, gripping the edge of his chair.

Whatever he said must have touched something in her for she looked at him softly, and replied, "I'm sorry, it's just that I recently had a, client, who treated me quite horrendously." She looked down at her hands, which she had folded on to her lap.

Harry spoke softly, "No, forgive me. If you don't wish to, I'll leave."

She shook her head and a sad smile came to her lips, "No, when Meg acts like this with a customer, the girls and I know that we have to treat them extra special." Harry sighed, and asked, "Would you like a drink?" Alice nodded; "Gin and tonic" Harry (having earlier spied a small mini-bar) got up and made drinks for the two of them. Alice got her gin and tonic while he had mixed some Bocardi Rum with Coca-Cola and ice.

Harry sat down, handed her drink, and asked, "How long have you worked here?"

"Almost a year, not that there is much opportunity for a squib."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he sipped the sweet rum, "You're a squib? Why aren't you doing something else besides this?"

She shrugged, "Not much opportunity if you are an orphan, and then it turns out that you are a squib in a magical world. It was either this or have a memory charm placed on me. Since all that would have done was place me in an even worse situation, I chose this."

Alice laughed again, "Yes, all squibs are good for are whoring and soldiering. Do you know that nearly all of the squib males in the wizard community are in the British military?"

Harry shook his head. Despite more then four years in the wizard world, he still had a lot to learn. "You seem very intelligent, why not…"

"Run away? No, I can't for then I'll have the Committee for the Misuse of Magic on me, and I'll be memory charmed into insanity."

She stopped talking, set her drink down, and got up. "Enough, I know you mean well, but anymore and I won't be able to do my job." With that, she went over to Harry, sat down on his lap, and pulled his head to hers and kissed him, her tongue probing through his lips.

_Call Me _ended, and _Love Potion Number 9_ came on.

Harry, whose only previous experience with women had been masturbating in the Dursley's bathroom with a stolen copy of one of Dudley's _Hustler_ magazines (and had managed to lie to his uncle about it on the Beaver going to Wales, as well as on the ride back), placed his drink on the table and then embraced her, and kissed back, a hand on the back of her neck pressing her into him. Harry luxuriated in the taste of strawberries, and gin. It was a strange, new, but nonetheless intoxicating and exciting experience. He could feel an erection growing in his trousers as he felt the mounds of Alice's breasts press into him, and the softness of her belly.

A lifetime later, Alice broke away and giggled, "Well, you certainly now how to kiss a girl, don't you Harry?" Harry, laughed, "That was the first time I've ever kissed a girl." He was still embracing Alice, his erection pressed against her midriff, and allowed one hand to follow the silk of her dress down the small of her back before settling on the curves of her buttocks. There, Harry let his hand gently squeeze one of the tight orbs.

Smiling, Alice asked, "Anything else I should know of?" Harry grinned, "Well, this is the first time I've done this to a girl," and kissed her on the nape of the neck. He had no experience, yet it seemed to a detached part of Harry's brain that it seemed to have a natural talent for this sort of thing. As Harry kissed her on the neck, she was responding by kissing him on his, and Harry moved his hands to unlatch the lace catches of her dress. Alice took off his glasses and placed them on the table.

Harry lost himself in her embrace, the sensation of warmth and longing he felt. Alice slowly guided him through the age-old dance, letting him both learn and enjoy himself. Soon, she too lost herself, allowing herself to enjoy the moment, both Harry and Alice forgetting everything else in the world as it became just the two of them in their arms, and enjoying the blissful comfort of the other. Together, the two clutched and coupled as though there was no tomorrow until both of them groaned, shuddered, and rested in the other's arms.

Breathing hard, Harry stared at Alice, who seemed was trying likewise to catch her breath her forehead resting against his. This had been Harry's first time, and he wasn't going to forget it. Staring into her hazel eyes, he spoke quietly, "Thank you." Alice grinned, and replied, "No, thank you, it isn't every day one gets to break in a virgin. Besides," she smiled wickedly, "you were really quite good for someone at his first time." Harry wasn't too sure if this was the truth, or if it was part of the act.

Nevertheless, Harry lazily grinned as even though they had just finished, he could feel himself stir once again. "In that case," he said, laying Alice down and staring into her eyes, "care for another go?"

Alice looked into his eyes and giggled, "I'm game if you are."

The music played on, and the night stretched long as Harry learned the most important lessons a man can receive, and enjoyed what had to be easily his most enjoyable birthday present he had ever had.

In the other room, Alex and Meg heard Alice's groan, and Meg remarked to Alex, "The Boy who Lived truly does know how to his way with the ladies, eh Alex?"

Alex grinned to her and replied, "It's his first time, but he seems to be a bright, resourceful lad."

With that, he raised his glass in salute towards the room where Harry and Alice were quite busy.

It was a dark, gloomy clearing in a forest of some sort. A tall, thin, hooded individual with a large, green snake at his feet was meeting with a shorter, plumper, individual. The shorter one had a silvery, metallic hand hanging at his side. That one spoke first, "I have done your bidding, master." The tall one replied, "Indeed, Wormtail. When will he arrive?"

_"He sent his compliments, and said it will take at least a month to get his affairs in order."_

_The tall one nodded, and continued, "Very well. Is there any news of the boy?"_

_Wormtail__ shook his hooded head, "No, he still is too protected. But when…"_

_"Enough, Wormtail.__ Do you think my mind is addled?"_

_Wormtail's__ voice dripped with fear, "No master, please!"_

_The tall one drew a wand from within his hooded robes and pointed it towards Wormtail._

_"Oh, just a short, sharp lesson.__ CRUCIO!"_

_"NO!!!!"_

Harry woke suddenly, his scar hurting immensely. Alice had been awake, stroking his scar, and now had a look of concern on her face at seeing Harry's eyes pop open. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "Just a bad dream."

With that, he kissed her and held on to her, for at that moment, he needed something, anything, even the arms of a courtesan, with which to fight his inner demons. Alice must have realized this, for she said not another word as she held on to Harry, and then continued the physical aspect of her duty with a renewed vigor.


	11. Chapter XI: The Great Game

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets.

Chapter XI: The Great Game 

Harry awoke to the feeling that his head was coming apart at the seams. Opening his eyes, he saw that it was morning, that he had had a dream of Voldermort, and that he supposed his time with Alice was up. Assuming that his uncle was handling the finances, Harry softly got of bed, not wishing to disturb Alice, who was still fast asleep. He headed into the shower, where he washed up, hoping that the hot water would relieve him of his hangover.

Now, while he hadn't drunk enough to get him hung over, the Eros Potion which both acted as a contraceptive and protection against VD had the slight side-effect of giving you a hang-over eight hours after it had been consumed; the eight hours being how long it protected you. As Alex put it, "If when you wake up and your dick is still there, and your head hurts, you know it has worked." Considering the photographs he had been shown back at Dwrryn Camp of the effects of the clap and pox, Harry decided he would gladly take a sore head over an ulcerated cock any day of the week.

Drying off, Harry went back to the room and got dressed, picking his scattered clothes from the floor. It took him a moment to find his Fairbain; the last he remembered, it had gotten in Alice's way as she was pulling off his coat, and it was only because the straps holding it to his arm had Velcro clasps that nothing was broken. After he was dressed in shirt and vest, he slung his coat around his shoulders, picked up his hat, and went over to Alice and kissed her gently on the ear. She was still sleeping, a smile on her lips.

Harry backed out of the room, and turned to see his uncle sipping a glass of iced tea at the table near the kitchen. He was in his shirtsleeves, his vest and coat lying down on the couch, with a copy of the _Daily Prophet _in front of him. Alex looked over at Harry, and smiled, "I trust you had a good night?" Harry reddened slightly as Alex motioned for him to relax and have a seat, even though he continued vexing Harry. "Truly, Harry, you can admit that you did. I mean it's not as though Meg and I weren't deaf to Alice's rather loud squeals and yells." Neville, and Dudley were still in the their rooms; Harry assumed _their _women had exhausted them to sleep. By now Harry was reddening, and it was then Alex dropped a bombshell. 

"Admittedly though, I will give you top marks as that is one wicked hickie you have on your neck." Harry looked puzzled, and Alex handed him a small pocket mirror. Sure enough, he had a dark red mark the size of an egg on the right side of his neck. Alex laughed as he saw Harry's shocked expression. 

"Nothing to be worried about lad. After all, with the kind of action you went through, you didn't expect to come out unscathed did you?"

Harry sighed, giving up and asked, "Uncle, can I have my wand back? I feel rather naked since I'm in a place of magic, and don't have it on me."

Alex pulled a small leather case out of his pocket, opened it, and tossed Harry's wand to him. Harry was pleased to have the feel of his wand back, and then decided to speak something on his mind. "Uncle, would you mind if I ask a question?" Alex replied, "By all means, ask away."

Harry looked at him. "Why did you go through the trouble of arranging all of this? I mean, you could have just told me the usual bits of the birds and the bees, but you also took the trouble of spending…"

"Precisely three hundred galleons for the lot of you. Now, you want to know why I took the trouble of ensuring you got a good time?"

Alex sighed and stared him in the eyes, "Put simply, the wizard world is going to war, if it already isn't so. People will die, and quite frankly, the odds of dieing are quite good. I felt you would appreciate it if that should your time come sooner then expected, then when you went before God to be judged, you will at least have experienced the one truly god-like act men and women can do: engage in making life." He continued to eyeball Harry, as if daring him to cross him. Harry decided to change the subject, as quite frankly, he truly had enjoyed himself, and given another opportunity, wouldn't hesitate to dally again. 

"Uncle, is there a place I can grab a bit to eat? I'm rather starved."

Alex's face changed as he laughed, "Indeed, the immediate post-coital period tends to make one have a ravenous appetite. My recommendation is steak and eggs, but I digress. Go downstairs and talk to Jeeves, the barkeep. He'll fix you up." Harry nodded, and proceeded out the door as Alex leaned back and continued to read his _Daily Prophet_. 

Going down the stairs, he wondered if he should tell Alex or Sirius about his dream. Right now, his nightmares had been reduced to a tolerable level, he had just gotten laid (a lot), and had done a lot of things that had someone told him he would be doing a month ago, he would have called them a fucking lunatic. The very last thing he wanted was to mess it up.

Harry had resolved to only tell Sirius, Remus, and Alex, and that was when they got back to Alex's house. After all it had only been a short, utterly uninformative dream.

Yet his thoughts were cut short as he heard voices coming from around the corner of the staircase on the first floor. Harry decided to put his fedora on, as the last thing he wanted someone sober to notice just who he was and report it to Rita Skeeter. Harry could just see the headlines, _Harry Potter: Sexual Degenerate?_ He paused, and took a quick look around the corner, where he was shocked to see a tall, silvery-haired gentleman in an argument with Meg.

"I told you last time, I want Alice and two others for the party myself and my friends shall be having." He was poking Meg in the chest with a long, ebony cane.

Meg was unfazed as she replied, "No is no, as the last time you took them out, you seriously injured one of my girls. So the answer is no, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius Malfoy; Draco Malfoy's father. Harry felt it was a tossup between which he hated more: the son, or the father. Since Meg and her girls had been good to him, and after seeing the anguish in Alice, Harry wasn't going to stand for this son of a whore (_bitch_, Harry corrected himself after remembering where he was) do his usual bullying tactics.

Stepping around the corner, he surprised both Meg and Malfoy. "Morning, Ms. Meg. And a good morning to you, Mr. Lucius Malfoy."

Malfoy was surprised, but nonetheless maintained his arrogant bearing. "This is none of your business, so stay out of it." He obviously didn't recognize Harry.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I'm a man who doesn't like bullies, especially ones who are so impotent they have to abuse women to get it up." He was deliberately insulting Lucius, even though a part of his mind was telling him his life wouldn't be made easier by a killing a man in a Soho brothel.

Malfoy's nostrils flared as he turned away from Meg and pointed his cane towards Harry. "I don't know who you are, but…"

"But you do know me. You, Mr. McNair, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle." Harry smiled coldly, "Mr. Riddle." With that he raised his left arm and let the unbuttoned sleeve fall down. The arm that Wormtail had cut so that he could take his blood. Malfoy stared open-mouthed, and Harry continued, "Perhaps this will refresh your memory even more." He took off his fedora and tossed it on the bar counter, exposing his lightning bolt scar. Lucius stepped away from, and looked as though he were going to run away before a cruel smile came to his face. "So the redoubtable Mr. Potter enjoys whoring does he? I'm sure the _Daily Prophet _would be quite appreciative of this piece of information."

Harry stared at him, still smiling, "Really? I'm likewise sure they would appreciate once it came out a man like yourself also visited such establishments like this." Malfoy looked as though he were going to say something, but Harry cut him off, "Think of it… A young boy, albeit famous, nevertheless is in his teens, young, inquisitive, and quite…virile. Whilst you are a married man, with an air of respectability, and we all know that the _Prophet_ thrives on muck. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, which of us do you think will dredge up more muck? My fucking, or your fucking around?"

Malfoy stopped, and looked at him for a moment. Without another, he turned and left the bar, and slammed the door of the brothel on his way.

Harry heard clapping in the background and turned to see his uncle standing there. Alex was smiling, "Smart, lad, smart. Now you're real work begins."

                                    *          *          *

The next phase of Harry's training began in earnest that day. Returning to Alex's house in Privet Drive, Alex Mrs. Figg, and the real Moody began to train Harry and Neville ruthlessly on all topics of magic. Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Astronomy; everything they had learned over the past four years was reviewed and re-taught at a lightning pace. Alex explained, "This will serve two very important reasons: I) Your O.W.L. tests are approaching and you need every bit of help you can get and II) this will be an excellent review for some of the magic _I_ will be teaching you."

Harry had to admit by the end of the second week back (the sixth in an eight week long summer break) that his uncle was an excellent teacher, particularly in Potions and the DADA topics as he patiently instructed them in the arts of making potions. Alex's style was quite similar to Remus Lupin's though it was for more condensed and varied, but nonetheless even Neville was enjoying it and making much progress. Both of them were also taught several new hexes and curses, all of them on the MOM's Restricted List. These included the Firegga Curse, which resulted in a ball of molten fire being shot out of the wand. Pyreggina, which caused anything that it hit (excluding people) to explode, and led to anything that moved being a possible explosive. Finally, there was Avanchina, which caused the immediate start of gas gangrene inside the body, ensuring that within five seconds, any target would be a smelly, putrefying mess.

Besides these magic skills, Alex ensured all three of the boys (Dudley usually spent the mornings either running and doing calisthenetics with them, and then doing lessons in Mathematics, English Literature, and History that Alex had made) learned new skills of the non-magic world. He taught them the intelligence agent's art of field-craft, how to spot a tail, how to break said tail, dead letter drops, the whole deal, even going so far as to teach them how to drive and instruction in the foreign languages of Russian and Spanish. Alex had them practicing the routine using, at first, the City of London (the financial district), followed by the whole Metropolitan area. In Harry's case, extra instruction was given to the use of the Browning Hi-Power, ensuring that Harry (who was already a good shot) became an even better shot and was able to use it well under any and all circumstances. Harry enjoyed the shooting, the time spent in the Kill House learning how to draw his weapon from a holster his left side (while he was ambidextrous, his wand hand was his right, so he preferred use his pistol on his right as well), and smells of gun lubricant, WD-40, and cordite as they cleaned up afterwards. 

At night, Harry, Dudley, and Neville usually went back to Meg's, where they each continued their education in regards to women as Meg had given them a high discount after Harry had threaten Lucius Malfoy. Harry, in particular, was especially fond of the ladies, though there was one rather embarrassing, yet funny, incident…

                        *          *          *

"Shit, Nev you have any idea where he went?" Dudley asked exasperated.

Neville replied, "Megs, of course."

Dudley nodded, and after getting the keys to the Scania, they drove to Soho and went inside. Surprisingly enough, the place seemed deserted, though there were a number of courtesans and wizards heading up the stairs or in the booths. Since Meg looked busy talking with Jeeves the barkeep, they couldn't ask her if Harry had shown up. Miffed, Neville and Dudley went upstairs to the third floor, where the suite they usually used was located. Neville and Dudley went up there and hear a lot of voices. Wondering just what was going on, they opened the door and both of them broke out laughing. 

Harry was entangled in the midst of three women and appeared quite…busy. He seemed oblivious to what was happening, and then paused long enough to yell at them, "Give me another five minutes, I should be done by then," and returned his attention back to the women.

Both of them closed the door, and let their friend have his five minutes of piece.

                        *          *          *                                              

Eventually, Harry asked his uncle why he was them fieldcraft, and the other skills of the spy's trade (such as breaking and entering, lock-picking, stalking, and others) after a particularly brutal shooting session in the kill house. Alex looked at him and told him, "The last time the Dark Lord had to be fought, the battles weren't like it was in the Falklands or the Gulf. It was fought like it was in Northern Ireland and the Cold War: by spies and assassins, terrorists and special agents. The Great Game, as old man Kipling once called it. You see, the only difference between an Auror and a man from MI5 or the Counter-Intelligence branch of SIS (MI6) is that one carries a Browning and the other a wand."

Still not satisfied, Harry asked, "Is that what you were doing after you got out of the Army? MI5 or the SIS?" Alex nodded, "Yes, I worked for the Queen's Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6 to the James Bond fanatics out there. Plus a bit of smuggling on the side while I worked my cover with old Taipan Dunross's Noble House subsidiary Struan's Tobacco. The smuggling was Cuban cigars to Belize and from there to America." He grinned, "You won't believed how much those rich Yanks would spend on genuine Cuban cigars. Now, your problem when you draw your weapon is that your thumb is…" Harry and Alex continued to train, Harry realizing that his uncle, when all was said and done, truly a man of mystery.

                                    *          *          *

In the middle of the sixth week, Alex brought Harry and Neville out to the backyard of his house. Linda stood by ominously with a white bag with a big red cross on it. _All and all, not a good sign at all_, thought Harry. Alex ordered them to give their wands over to Linda and set down in front of them. "Now," Alex began, "tell me one of you the Primary Principle of Magic. What separates the wizards from the muggles?" 

Neville raised his hand and explained, "The Primary Principle of Magic states that magic is a form of natural energy that exists in the universe. Based on current studies, it seems a combination of factors such as genetics lead to certain individuals, i.e. wizards, being able to better draw upon this energy for practical purposes then muggles. This is common in nature as well as various creatures draw upon magic during their lifespan." Neville seemed out of breath by the speech he had just recited. 

Alex nodded, "Very good. Now, using that as our base, what is the use of wands for?" Harry held up a hand, and Alex pointed to him. "Harry." 

"In order to fully harness the energy of magic, a conductor is needed in the form of a wand made of elements inherent in magical energy. Time and training ensure that the user of a wand can draw upon greater and greater amounts of the energy."

"Very good, Harry. However, using the Primary Principle, it tends to frown upon the use of wand-less magic. True?" The boys nodded. Alex grinned, "Not necessarily. People can, by themselves, use some magic without a wand. The wand merely makes it easier. A case in point is the wizards of Nepal and Tibet. The average age of a recently qualified wizard or witch is thirty-five years of age, of which thirty are spent studying the arts of magic.  Yet, they can do spells which you young pups require study and wands to accomplish."

Allowing that fact to sink for a moment, Alex continued, "Now, you have seen me do one spell earlier this summer without using a wand, and I'll teach you the basics of doing just that for, believe it or not, counter-curses are the easiest to perform. But first," he smiled, "back to the basics: accio."

Motioning to Harry to stand up, Alex instructed him to empty his thoughts and picture a white wall. "Now, when you have that wall, picture seeing the wand flying into your hand. Try to do it with your eyes open, but if you have to, close them." Harry left them open, and stared at his wand that was in lying next to Linda. Concentrating, he pictured a white wall, and then pictured, as though it were a home movie, the wand flying towards him. His mind picturing it, Harry felt himself murmur _Accio_ and was surprised to see the wand rise slowly, and go towards him. Just as it was about to reach his hand, it dropped as Harry reached out to touch it.

Alex scolded him gently, "Let it come to you, for to do otherwise means breaking your concentration and thus your magical link to its movement." With that, they practiced wand-less magic for the next three hours, stopping only at dusk. Both Harry and Neville had succeeded in the wand test, and had been practicing counter-curses.

For the rest of the week, when Alex felt he was satisfied with their skills at counter-curses, they practiced up to three hours a day on wand-less magic.


	12. Chapter XII: Sacrifice

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets.

Chapter XII: Sacrifice 

As the end of the seventh week of summer came to an end, Harry was having the time of his life. His days were spent training, and generally spending time with his new mates Dudley and Neville; his nights were spent writing and communicating with his friends by owl post (Hedwig had been happy to see him, and Harry could tell she had been well-cared for by Linda), followed by him and his mates going down to Soho in his uncle's green Saab to enjoy the favors of a few 'scarlet women'. Additionally, for once Harry felt as though he mastered anything in the next school year as his uncle, along with Mrs. Figg and Mad-Eye Moody had worked him and Neville to the ground, not to mention the fact he now knew a few more tricks magic wise. 

_In case that fuck Voldemort comes knocking again_, Harry thought to himself. He and Neville had just finished the last of their homework for Hogwarts and were playing a game of blackjack with Dudley, who had had to complete a paper on the Oedipus Cycle and Greek drama. Harry had just brought his value up to 20, and since Dudley had struck out earlier, it was just Neville and he. He was betting that he had less then he did when Alex came into the room. 

Looking at them playing cards, he looked over at them and spoke almost apologetically, "Sorry lads, time to pack in the card game." His magical eye swiveled towards Neville, "I don't think a queen and a nine will beat two tens, Nev." Neville swore and tossed his cards down; sure enough, that proved to be the case. Harry laughed, but was cut short as Alex held up a hand, "Harry, put on your suit and your trench coat too as we're going for a long distance trip."

Harry looked at him and asked, "Where to, uncle?"

Alex smiled crookedly, "Dear old Hogwarts, of course."

*          *          *

Thirty minutes later, Harry was brushing ash off of his coat as he and his uncle walked out of the Three Broomsticks in the village of Hogsmeade. Together, they walked to Hogwarts as Alex related a few episodes of _his_ schooldays. As they passed through the gates of Hogwarts, Alex stopped and looked at the winged boars for a moment, before waving at Harry to follow him. They reached the doors of Hogwarts where Filch was waiting for them.

Now, Harry had never been on the best of terms with the man, which was normal since Filch it seemed to hate every student out there. Alex, it seemed, likewise didn't like the man for he walked up to Filch and asked him, the maniacal grin Harry knew so well on his face. "Miss me, Filchie?" Filch looked at him, and replied, "Oh, the one who was always allowed to hang with those fools the Marauders, yeah I remember you." Alex spied Filch's cat Mrs. Norris and looked back at him, "Well if it isn't the school mascot Mrs. Norris." Then, still smiling, he lashed out with his foot and booted her down the stairs where she ran screaming away. Filch looked shocked and appeared to be getting ready to strike back, when Alex merely looked at him harshly. "Go ahead, Filch, I fucking dare you. I'm not a student anymore so I'll be more then happy to take my chances in court. Before that happens though, I'll make sure this school needs a new caretaker. Understood? So open the fucking door and get out of my sight." His voice was flat and utterly emotionless, making it all the more menacing.

Filch must have been frightened for he put down his hand, opened the main door, and went looking for Mrs. Norris. Alex turned around went into Hogwarts, motioning for Harry to follow him. Harry followed as he led them through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts until they stopped before the stone gargoyle that lead to Dumbeldore's offices. Alex spoke to the gargoyle, "Blood pop" and it opened to the staircase. Heading up, the two of them came into Dumbeldore's office, where Professor McGonagall, Mrs. Figg, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dumbeldore were gathered around the desk. "Hello, Harry, I trust you have had a unique summer," asked Dumbeldore smiling. Professor McGonagall and Moody gave nodded in his direction, and Mrs. Figg smiled towards him. "Unique it was Professor. Though so far, I haven't been able to visit the Weasley's. Like you mentioned in my last correspondence with you." 

Dumbeldore sighed, "For which I'm sorry, but there was little choice in the matter. Nevertheless, your uncle's…therapy helped did it not?" Harry nodded, and then related his latest dream of Voldemort, omitting only where he received it, doubting if Professor McGonagall would find it amusing that his favorite hangout for the last three weeks had been a Soho cathouse.

His news didn't seem to surprise anyone. Dumbeldore nodded as he replied, "It is too brief to be of much use, beyond the obvious fact that Voldemort is alive and plotting." He paused for a second, and continued, "Which brings me to why we brought you here, Harry. Arabella, Alastor, please proceed."

"As you know, Harry," Arabella began, "the return of You-Know-Who isn't widespread news. The Ministry of Magic in the United Kingdom under Fudge has buried its head in the sand and so far the atmosphere is reminiscent of the early days of the Dark Lord. Headmaster Dumbeldore here doesn't feel we should be caught napping."

"For that reason, " Moody took off where Arabella left off, "we are beefing up security, at all levels and in all areas. To include the student level." 

Harry was starting to feel perplexed, when Dumbeldore pulled forth a pocket-sized leather folder and wordlessly handed it Harry. Opening it, Harry found himself looking at a gold shield on which was the Hogwarts emblem and motto, and beneath it the title: HEAD OF SECURITY. 

"What is this?" Harry asked.

"That," Moody explained, "is the keys to the kingdom. We want you to accept the position of Student Head of Hogwarts Security. You will answer only to myself, Madam Figg, Professor McGonagall, and Headmaster Dumbeldore."

Harry interrupted him, "Just what precisely will be my duties?"

"Primarily, Harry, you will be coordinating the security of any and all school functions, and events, to include the day-to-day security of the school grounds themselves. The current situation dictates that it is not a matter of if, but when, Hogwarts will be attacked. We are going to be upgrading security here as a result of that."

Professor McGonagall spoke up as soon as Moody finished, "This will require much sacrifice on your part though. Notably, you cannot be part of the Quidditch team for your house, as well as the fact you will be disqualified from being prefect. Additionally," she paused, as though measuring her words, "you may not be able to have much of a personal life as you will be kept constantly busy with your duties as the HS. Would you be able to accept it under those conditions?" 

Harry needed a moment to think. While he couldn't say he gave a good goddamn about the prefect job, he was going to have to think about the Quidditch, as that had been one of his favorite pastimes since he came to Hogwarts. To lose it would hurt, and greatly at that, not to mention the fact his sex life may very well be aborted before it truly began.

Yet, he couldn't help but think of Cedric Diggory, and how he had died. During Harry's nightmares, he had imagines how his friends would look like after dieing like that, and had promised himself that he wouldn't get them hurt, no matter the cost. It looked like this would be the cause.

Taking a look around, he saw that all eyes were on him, and Dumbeldore spoke once, "Harry, you have proven yourself again and again as a wizard beyond your years. If you feel that you don't wish this burden then you may leave it on my desk and we will not think any less of you."

Mrs. Figg, though, had the last word, "Yet, we're calling on you for quite frankly, there is no other student whom we could place the same degree of trust and the same degree of responsibility."

Remembering his promise, Harry looked down at the badge, and made up his mind.

Taking it in hand, "Very well, I accept this position."

McGonagall then proceeded to warn him to not abuse his power and then congratulated him on his new position him as Moody, Figg, and Alex did likewise. Dumbeldore finally broke up the gathering as he motioned to Harry. "Harry," he explained, "During the year, we will be having a regiment of mercenary goblins and a company of dwarves stationed in the town of Hogsmeade. Their commanders' names are Magnus Ironhammer, and Eamon Bladvak. You will be working closely with them as part of your position."

He smiled then, and spoke with a twinkle in his eyes, "Now, as Student Head of Security, you will have some notable benefits. Unrestricted access, at all hours, to Hogsmeade, the grounds, the Forbidden Forest, and that most holy of holies, the Prefect's washroom." Harry grinned at this.

"Now, I believe you need to be introduced to those gentlemen." With that, he raised his wand and shot out a stream of magic out of his office. Within a minute, a short, bushy-bearded dwarf, and a taller, ganglier goblin in what looked like an old British Army redcoat entered. They stopped in front of Dumbeldore where the goblin spoke curtly, "Sir?"

Dumbeldore introduced them, "Gentlemen, this is Harry Potter, our new Student Head of Security. Harry, the dwarf is Mr. Magnus Ironhammer," the dwarf nodded, " and the goblin gentleman is…"

"Legate Bladvak, at your service," the goblin replied. His accent reminded Harry of the tellers at Gringotts bank back at Diagon alley.

Harry politely replied, "A pleasure to meet you."

With the pleasantries on the way, Harry followed them into what Legate Bladvak called the War Room. There, a large map of Hogwarts, the grounds, and the Forbidden Forest, showing the locations of every individual and ghost in the area. In short, a much larger version of the Marauder's Map Harry possessed. Impressed, Harry listened as they began going over the details of the first major security issue: the train from Platform 9& ¾. The plan they had prepared was quite simple and straightforward. Besides the Hogwarts Express, two groups of dwarves would follow and precede the train using handcars to ensure no possible security risks were present. In addition, a pair of security trolls would be riding in the locomotive with the engineers.

Harry brought up the idea of using a couple of enchanted cars (like the Ford Anglia that was running wild in the Forbidden Forest that he and Ron had left out there) with goblins or dwarves riding shotgun, providing aerial surveillance. Amongst the regimen Alex had been placing them through had been a series of muggle related texts in regards to espionage and counter-terrorism (Harry's particular favorite titles had been _Spycatcher _by Peter Wright and _Bravo Two Zero_ by Andy McNab), so Harry was familiar with the advantages such usage of aerial survelliance offered, but was surprised to see that the magic world hadn't thought of it that. Bladvak had nodded slowly in thought, and told him the idea would be placed into effect immediately, along with the provision of invisibility generators.

Within two hours, the meeting was over and Harry shook hands with them. Bladvak informed him, "It will truly be a pleasure working with someone with the kind of professionalism you display, Mr. Potter" Ironhammer nodded, and both of them left. Dumbledore went over to Harry and told him, "Harry, I believe your training is at an end. Since there is still another week until the school year starts, I believe you would wish to visit the Weasley's?" 

Harry nodded, as while he enjoyed the company of Neville and Dudley and his uncle and Linda, he missed Ron and Fred and George and Mrs. Weasley's cooking. Alex came up and joked with him, "Tired of me, already?" He was laughing as he asked that.

Likewise laughing, they said their goodbyes to Dumbeldore and the rest, but not before Dumbeldore warned Harry, "Harry, you have to keep your new position secret until the first day of school. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, Sir"


	13. Chapter XIII: Friends and Family

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets.

Chapter XIII: Friends & Family 

Harry and Alex returned to Privet Drive in the mid afternoon, which Harry and Neville spent packing. Since Dudley still wanted to have one last drink before the trio broke up for the year, they sat around the living room of Alex's living room, drinking a glass or two of gin and lemon, a drink Alex was partial to. They had been laughing over what a good summer it had been (particularly their times with the ladies at Meg's) when Harry brought up a question that had been intriguing him since Moody had mentioned it during his birthday.

"Uncle, can I ask you an honest question?"

"By all means, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath and asked, "Alex, Moody mentioned that you tortured a suspect during the time of You-Know-Who."

Alex looked at him with both eyes, and shrugged, "Yeah, I did. What of it?"

Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Alex leaned back into his chair, and asked Harry, "Tell me, Harry do you have any idea how bad things were at the time?"

Harry nodded, "I've heard the stories…"

"Well, let me tell you that any qualms you may ever have about torturing Death Eaters tend to vanish as soon as you see a friend of yours, cut up and blasted into pieces, or one who has had his brains melted due to the Cruciatus curse. Or if…" Alex quieted as something flashed in his eyes, and just as quickly disappeared as he downed the rest of his drink.

Harry didn't know what else to say, and decided to keep his mouth shut, for Harry had learned one very important thing during his time with the men of number two para and that was never, _ever_ question a man's reasons for killing another, for you weren't in that man's position and could never possibly understand the reasons behind such actions. 

After they finished their drinks, Neville and Harry grabbed their trunks from main room and carried them down to the front door, with Dudley assisting them. Linda was at the door where she kissed each of them on the cheek as they thanked her for her hospitality. She waved it off, and told them, "Believe me, it was a pleasure, boys, do come by to visit." She smiled and waved at them on the doorway as Alex led them a couple of blocks away to an intersection where there was very little activity. It was almost seven at night, and most people had arrived at their houses. 

Setting their trunks down, Harry and Neville waited as Alex looked up and down the street, ensuring no one was watching. He then pulled out his wand, and pointed it skywards. Realizing what his uncle was up to, Harry stepped a little away from the roadway, not wanting to get any dust over his suit and tie.

Sure enough, the Knight Bus (which Harry had last had the occasion to ride when he had had to make a run for it after putting an enlarging charm on his Aunt Marge, one of Vernon's sisters) flashed down the road, and slowed to a stop in front of Alex. Harry had made sure to put on his fedora, as the last thing he wanted was for Stan and Ernie, the operators of the Knight Bus to recognize him by his scar. Which was when Harry suddenly remembered that the last time he had ridden the bus, he had gone under the name of Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.

Quickly, he nudged Neville and whispered, "Nev, I'm Neville and you're…Ted Malan." Neville looked at him as though he had suddenly gone crazy, but shrugged and nodded as the doors to the purple, triple-decker opened and the homely visage of Stan the Conductor came out, and asked, "Destination?" He looked surprised for a second and yelled to Harry, "'Lo, Neville! What happened that…" Stan only shut up as Alex spoke to him, "Ottery St. Catchpole for Neville over there, and Hawk-on-the-Rock in Lancashshire for Melvin here." Alex was pointing to Neville. "How much?"

Stan looked at the boys and shrugged, "Twenty-two Sickles for both of them, but for…" Alex counted out a Galleon and five sickles and handed them over, along with another galleon as a tip. Stan smirked and helped the boys load their luggage aboard the bus, with the boys having beds across from each other close to the door. 

Quickly, Neville and Harry said their goodbyes to Dudley and Alex. Harry shook the hand of his cousin and embraced him, wishing him good luck with the next school year. Dudley grinned, and replied, "If I ever need a hard bastard to watch my back, I'll be sure to give you a ring." Harry laughed and embraced his uncle. 

While he hadn't known his uncle very long, he had already shaped Harry's life, and enabled him to make sense out of his emotions and state of mind after the Triwizard Tournament. Additionally, _one tends to be grateful to the man who buys you the best pros in magical England to teach you how to please a woman,_ Harry thought as he asked his uncle, "You gonna come and visit me at Hogwarts, Uncle?" 

Alex laughed and replied mysteriously, "Oh, you'll see me during the year, I guarantee it."

His uncle then motioned him aboard the bus, and Neville and Harry waved goodbye to Dudley and Alex as the bus sped off, and flashed away.

As soon as it was out of site, Alex turned to his nephew Dudley, tossed an arm on his shoulder, and spoke, "Well, lad, we're going to go home and get sloshed. But first, I'm going to have a look at your paper on the Roman invasion and colonization of early Britain…"

                                    *          *          *

Harry and Neville spent the next hour and a half playing Exploding Snap, and tried playing poker using the deck of magical cards Neville carried with him. The last proved to be quite frustrating as Harry once lost a complete Royal Flush when his whole hand exploded in his hands. 

Around eight thirty (Harry had his pocket watch hanging from his vest pocket), Stan called out, "Ottery St. Catchpole in two minutes!" Harry got up and dragged his trunk down with him and yelled to Neville, "Later Nev! See you at Diagon Alley on Thursday?" Neville stood in the doorway and yelled back, "Yeah, see you then, mate!" With that, the door shut and the bus flashed away.

Harry found himself down the country road a few meters away from the Burrow, and he could see the lights on in the house. Grinning, he turned to his trunk and lifted it and carried it up to the door of the house. Taking his time, he kicked it out of the doorway, and briefly looked in one of the windows. Sure enough, the Weasley clan, and Hermione Granger were eating supper. It smelled of ham stew, fresh-baked bread, and mashed potatoes. Harry smiled and walked up to the door and rapped it with his knuckles.

"Just a moment," Harry heard Mrs. Weasley call out. The door opened and Mrs. Weasley cried out, "Hello Harry!" and gave him a hug. Harry broke out of it and asked, "May I come in, Ma'am?" Mrs. Weasley waved him to enter and spoke loudly, "Arthur, Harry's here." Soon enough, Harry found himself surrounded by the Weasley clan as Ron came up and clapped him on the back, saying, "Hello, Harry!" Hermione came up and gave him a hug, and Fred and George laughed and welcomed him. 

Arthur asked, "So, what brings you around, Harry?" Harry smiled and replied, "Dumbledore gave me permission to spend the week with you until school starts. You don't mind if I…."

"Heavens no! You are always welcome, here Harry." This was Mrs. Weasley, who pulled Harry into the house and promptly led him to the kitchen table where she conjured a plate and kitchenware from the cupboards, and started piling his plate with food. Harry, while he had been better fed then he had been in previous summers, nevertheless enjoyed Mrs. Weasley and dug in with a gusto as Ron and the twins first carried Harry's kit up to Ron's room (after waving Harry to sit down and eat). 

Mrs. Weasley asked, "So tell us Harry, just what have you done since we saw you in Wales? You were owling us often, but tell us anyways?" Harry swallowed the bit of stew he had in his mouth and started telling them about his time with his uncle, mostly learning new spells and physical training. There was no way short of castration and disembowelment would he have told them of his time at Meg's. He also couldn't tell them (yet) of his new position as student Head of Security. Hermione mentioned briefly that she had been selected to be Prefect, whilst Dean Thomas had been the male Prefect for Gryfinndor house. "I can't see though why you didn't, Harry!" she fussed. 

Harry shrugged, and asked, "Any news? About You-Know-Who?" Arthur looked unhappy as he related that beyond recovering the body of Crouch (it had taken almost two months of excavating Hagrid's front yard in order to find the bone which Crouch had been transfigured into), things were absolutely quiet. "One thing that is worrying is Amos. Poor man seems to think anyone who even _mentions_ the possibility the Dark Lord has returned is a potential trouble-maker."

It took Harry a minute that he was talking about Amos Diggory; Cedric Diggory's father.

Harry decided not to tell them of his dream and asked if he could go ahead and change. Mrs. Weasley told him to go ahead, and Ginny and Hermione followed them as they went to the girl's room. Harry followed talking with Ron and the twins about the upcoming Quidditch season. 

The Triwizard Tournament last year had canceled the last year's Quidditch season, and Fred and George predicted that the year would be spent rebuilding the Gryffindor team as Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and the Weasely twins were all in their seventh year. It also didn't help they were also missing a Keeper after Oliver Wood graduated. In other words, after this upcoming season, the only member of the team left would be Harry, and if nothing else the twins thought in the long term. 

Harry listened to them as they crowded into Ron's room, and thought the problem through as he pulled out a set of pajamas and started to change. It was then he heard Ron call to him, "Harry, what's that on your shoulder there?" Harry turned his head and didn't see anything and asked Ron, "What?" Fred got up and looked at the junction where his neck and shoulder connected, and laughed, "So what lucky lady have you been seeing? Someone we know?" George had pulled forth a small looking glass and held it out to Harry, grinning, "Whoever she is, she is close. Close enough to leave behind teeth prints." Ron came by and looked, "No way! Who is she?" 

Harry went over to his chest, opened it and pulled out a small hand mirror. Looking into it, and standing next to the mirror George was holding, Harry swore violently. Sure enough, he had a bright red hickie. With teeth marks; deep, visible teeth marks.

Ron asked, rather jealously Harry thought, "So what's her name? She must be on pretty friendly terms with to snoog with you to that extent." Fred asked, "So how far did you go? A petting? A good, long feel? A…"

Harry decided to shock them into silence. "Good evening in the sheets." For once, the twins were speechless as Ron stared at him open-mouthed. Fred asked first, "Who is she? How did you meet her? How…"

"All right, just give me a moment." Harry finished changing, and pulled out the smaller chest Hermione had sent him. Opening it, he pulled out a small photograph and handed it over to them, where they proceeded to gape at it. Harry wasn't surprised for the day before he had left, he had taken a group picture of all the girls at Meg's, all of them looking their finest, and all of them looked as fabulous as Harry lounged with a huge smile in the center of them. All of them were waving cheerfully at the cameraman. Ron spoke, "Wow…Which one was she Harry?"

Harry sighed and pointed to Alice. "The brown-haired one in the green dress. She was my first one, though by up to day before yesterday I enjoyed each of them."

Not letting them say anything, Harry continued, "You see, after I came back from Wales, my uncle and Sirius thought I should become a man and Alex took me…" he told them, as quickly and dispassionately as he could, about enjoying the favors of various women at Meg's brothel in Soho. After he finished, Fred spoke first, "Shocking, Harry, shocking!" George butted in, "Indeed, a member of Gryffindor house having to solicit favors from… What does our mom call them, Fred, scarlet women?" Ron looked at him with what was equal parts shock, and awe.

Fred pulled a quill and bit of parchment from one Ron's book bag, and started asking, "Now, in order to ensure that you don't visit this scurrilous establishment again, myself and Mr. George Weasley."

"That's me."

"Require every detail of said establishment. Specifically, the names of the girls,

"The Madam."

"Price range for people such as yourself."

"Most importantly, how to get to said establishment without being caught by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

Harry burst out laughing, and the Weasley boys joined him in his laughter, and started piling, on wrestling with each other. After a minute, Harry calmed down, and asked, "You promise not to tell anyone? The last thing I need is for it to become common knowledge over the world that…"

"The Boy Who Lived enjoys the favors of so many women? Kind of like that one song we saw on that muggle video, _The Bawdy Adventures of Tom Jones_?" Fred asked.

George broke into verse.

All the ladies in the county come to know him one-by-one! He provides the kind of loving that can keep a woman young 

"I don't think I knew all the women in London, George," Harry replied dryly. All of them laughed once more as Ron asked, "So tell me, Harry how did it feel like? I mean, I've asked these two," he pointed to his brothers, "and all they tell me is to wait my turn, and not be impatient."

"Yeah, you know how long it took me to work my way into Angelina's knickers? I almost wound up not getting any thanks to having to watch out for you at the Yule Ball, Ron." Fred retorted sharply. George laughed, and it Ron looked like he was going to answer, but Harry cut him off, "Well, Ron, let me just say that it feels good, _damn_ good. But since I usually took a draught of the Eros potion before I went to 'bed', your head will usually kill you when the morning comes around."

"Anyhow, you guys promise not to tell anyone else about this?"

They nodded and Ron joked, "Hell, Harry, you're as much of a brother to me and the rest of the family. Well, except for Ginny and we all know who she is impressed with." Fred and George laughed as Harry looked down at his feet for a moment, and quipped back to Ron, "Yeah, and we all know who _you_ are impressed with, you prat."

Ron looked at him, "Who?"

Fred laughed, "Don't be stupid, Ron, everyone knows you have been rather, smitten isn't it? By Hermione."

"Yeah," George talked, "All you did this summer was bitch about Krum this and Hermione that. Shit, Ron, Mom's side really shown out in you."

Ron started to turn as red as his hair, and Harry decided to help him out by changing the topic, "So, no telling, and now let's figure out the problem of next season's Quidditch lineup."

Fred and George took the bait as they began discussing possible contenders, including Ron. Ron meanwhile, looked over at Harry with a look of profound thanks. Harry nodded and joined in the discussion.

"Now, why not use that one sixth year as a reserve Chaser, Mandrake isn't it? You know, the one with the curly hair."

Harry leaned back on his bed in Ron's room and smiled contentedly. Here were his friends, and his family, and he had missed them during much of his summer holiday.

*          *          *          

The next several days Harry spent with the Weasley's were fun, and just what Harry needed after the rather mature nature of, as Alex had put it "Training hard, drinking hard, fighting hard, and fucking hard. The Army Way, Harry." Harry spent his time playing Quidditch, helping Ron out with his homework (Hermione had been surprised and delighted that he had already done all of his homework, and seemed to been brought up to speed in Arithmancy and Potions in a mere three weeks), and helping Mr. Weasley out with his latest muggle project: getting a toaster, percolator, and stove set to work properly. He had already destroyed the oven twice trying to make it work, and destroyed as many coffee pots after over heating the percolator.

Harry also got the chance to see Ron and Ginny in action at Quidditch. While both of them used older Comet class brooms, they nevertheless flew quite well. Ginny, with her small frame, appeared to have the potential to be a damn good seeker, whilst Ron, to put a face on it, could and did take great deals of punishment, making him ideal as Keeper for the team. Harry mentioned this to Fred and George, who were in constant contact with the rest of the team preparing for the next season. Both of them agreed on Ron, but didn't seem to think much about using Ginny, as they believed Harry was going to be Gryffindor Seeker for the next season. Harry didn't think he could tell them quite yet that with his new duties, and decided to let them know when the time came.

Thursday came by and Harry, Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Ginny caught the Floo to Diagon Alley and landed in the Leaky Cauldron. From there, using the lists that they had received the other day via owl post, they set about buying the books, potion ingredients, and assorted sundries needed for the upcoming school year. After a quick visit to Gringots Wizard Bank (Harry had been pleased to see that the joke shop business was enough to fill out the Weasley family coffers) Harry went with Ron as they got their school robes tailored while Ginny and Hermione went off somewhere, promising to meet up with the boys at Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Fred and George, telling them that they would meet them there also once they took care of some business matters with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, likewise took off for parts unknown. 

Harry and Ron had just been trying on their new robes when Harry, heard something, held up his hand, and motioned for Ron to shut up. They were in the rear of the shop, but could hear the proprietor speaking with another customer at the front desk. 

"That will be twenty galleons, sir, for four complete sets of black witch's robes with the following dimensions of…?" 

 "I gave you the sizes needed on parchment. I didn't wish for them to be broadcast over the wireless." It was the voice Harry probably despised the most in the world: that of Severus Snape, a rival of his father, a man to whom grudges apparently extended to that rival's offspring and the offspring's friends, and Professor of Potions at Hogwarts. Ron shut up and made a face at Harry. Harry put a finger to his lips and motioned for Ron to be silent as Snape, without another word paid the tailor and left with a curt, "Good day," to the proprietor.

Harry and Ron changed into their street clothes, paid for their robes and left for Florians. Ron asked, "I wonder who he was buying those robes for?" Harry shrugged, "Maybe he swings both ways, eh? He gets his jollies off of getting dressed as a woman, or a sixteen year old girl?" The two of them laughed at this and went over to the ice cream parlor where they waited for everyone to show up. While they waited, they ran into Neville Longbottom, who had just gotten done shopping and was waiting to meet up with Harry at Florians. 

Together the boys talked about Snape ordering female school robes, and generally had a hearty laugh when Hermione and Ginny showed up, loaded with bags of clothes, books, and school supplies. "Hi Neville, what brings you here?" This was Hermione, as she sat down and ordered a chocolate shake from Florian as Ginny ordered a strawberry soda. Neville shrugged and explained, "Nothing much, just here to get my school kit. Hey, I heard you and Dean are Gryffindor Prefects this year. Congrats." Hermione replied, "It's nothing, but I still think Harry should have gotten it." Harry laughed and was about to reply when Ron swore. Harry asked, "What's wrong, Ron?" Ron replied, " I forgot I needed to buy some more Owl Treats as I ran out. Looks like I'll have to go over to Eeylops and buy some more." Hermione spoke up, "I'll go with you as they have this new shop for cats next door and I want to see if it is any better then the Magical Menagerie." Ron got up and told them he would be back, as Hermione followed close behind. 

Neville looked at Harry and smiled, "Hey Harry, I dropped my wand off over at Ollivander's to get this knick in it repaired, I'll be back in a few after I pick it up." With that, Neville got up and walked off. Harry looked over at Ginny, smiled (which caused her to flush), and asked, "So, how are you and the redoubtable Colin Creevy doing?" Ginny suddenly looked down, and replied softly, "Fine, we are doing just…fine." There was a subdued tone to her now, and this worried Harry. Ginny was a friend, and the sister to some of his best mates. "Ginny, is something wrong?" Harry had an edge of concern in his voice now. _She doesn't look like he beat her, but if he had, heaven help him for I sure as fuck won't!_ Harry thought furiously. Instinctively, he laid a hand on Ginny's without realizing what he was doing. Ginny looked up for a moment, and Harry gently spoke, "Ginny, I've known you almost four years, and I trust you as one of my best friends. If something is wrong, please tell me about it." Harry lightly held on to her hand, inwardly marveling how soft, and warm and small, and feminine it felt. _The last time I felt a hand like this it was…No! She is your best friend's sister, and already taken!_ Harry thought to himself, as he realize how this would look if Ron or Hermione or the twins or even if Neville came back early.

Ginny must have realized this as well for she gently pulled her hand away from his and folded it upon her other one. She looked at him, and asked pleadingly, "Promise you won't tell anyone? I don't want my brothers to know about how things are with me and Colin." Harry nodded, "All right, but only if it isn't about him beating you for if he has, I'll…" He left that unsaid as Ginny replied surprisingly, "Beating? No, no, it isn't anything like that, it's…" She breathed and sighed deeply, "I think Colin's is seeing someone else." Harry, who had had a bit of heartache himself the previous year (though not over Hermione like the _Daily Prophet_ insinuated. That had been Ron.), understood how she was feeling and replied, " Are you sure? I mean, you two do live quite a bit apart and his father is a muggle so it isn't as though it would be as easy as school to visit you?" Ginny shook her head, "It's not that, it's just that ever since the summer began and after we came back from Wales, things just seem to have changed. We still talk, but he seems evasive, distant, almost formal. We also argue and bicker over the most things, and we just drift apart more and more." Harry waited until she stopped and asked, "Then why don't you break it off? I mean, if things aren't working that good, then…" 

"I know, I know should; it's just that every time I think I should, he seems to get all the more sweeter and I change my mind. I don't know what else to do." She stopped and sipped from her soda. Harry looked at her, and told her, "Listen, I can't really tell you what to do as I myself, as you know, haven't exactly a sterling love life." Ginny giggled slightly at this as Harry continued, "So, the best I can do is to be someone to talk to if you need. Never hesitate to ask. Okay?" Ginny smiled slightly and nodded as Neville, Hermione, Ron, and the twins arrived. Fred asked, "Right, everyone ready to go?" Harry nodded, but first pointed to Hermione's shake, "Yeah, but I think maybe Hermione might want to finish her shake, slightly melted as it is." Hermione ordered another one in a paper goblet with an anti-spilling charm on it and together the group finished their shopping. They said goodbye to Neville (who had to Floo back to Lancashire) and went back to the Burrow, where they began preparing for school.

Which would begin the next Sunday.


	14. Chapter XIV: Surprises

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets, though considering how long it took to type this chapter, I may have to call my story an AU (alternate universe) pretty soon.

Chapter XIV: Surprises 

The next several days passed uneventfully, as everyone seemed to be subdued with the end of summer approaching. Harry also got the chance to see Percy for the first time since the previous year. Percy still lived with his parents, but the last several days had he had been on assignment with Amos Diggory's special unit in Ireland. He had formally greeted Harry, and had refused to answer any questions about what he had been doing there. Indeed, it seemed part of Amos's attitude had gotten on to Percy for, besides asking a series of questions about his Uncle Alex, Percy didn't speak much to him and sounded quite aloof when Hermione asked why Percy was so concerned over Harry's uncle.

Harry, in the meantime, didn't care as he finished getting his kit prepared for Hogwarts. _Charms and Spells Book V_, _Advanced Potions_, and other weighty tomes he put in his trunk, along with the rest of his new school supplies when an owl flew in from Uncle Alex with a small package. It read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I just wish to write to you to wish you a good school year. A certain dog and his best friend (you know who they are) send their regards, and apologize for not writing directly due to the nature of the business they and several others you may or may not know are engaged in abroad. This situation is truly on a worldwide scale. Now, the package I've sent you contains three boxes of Struan's cigars drawn from the company's finest stocks, a silver flask, and a very special book. This is an enchanted book with each page containing roughly four one-quart bottles of every liquor invented up to the date it was written, which was about two years ago and is fairly accurate. All you need to do to create a bottle is to tap the page with your wand and speak: I am not a drunken sot.  I'm trusting that you will not abuse this privilege and know how to hold your liquor. _

_Alex_

Harry opened the package, and sure enough,it contained a silver flask, three small boxes full of sweet smelling cigars, and a gray book the size of a dictionary. Opening the book, Harry discovered it was filled with such entries as Johnny Walker Black Label, Old Grouse, Smirnov's, and his particular favorites Beefeater Gin and Boccardi Rum. Harry carefully packed this into his magical box, as for some reason he couldn't fathom, he felt he was going to every shred of tobacco and every drop of liquor he had when school started.

                                    *          *          *

Sunday rolled around, and Mr. Weasley arranged for Ministry of Magic cars to take them to King's Cross Station. Harry felt a strange sense of déjà vu as for the second year in a row it looked as though it were going to rain, and heavily at that. Mentioning this to Hermione and Ron as they loaded their luggage into the boot of a ministry car, Ron shrugged it off, "You know, I don't think it matters. What I do wonder is who will be our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry had been thinking the same thing, as it seemed that every year he had been at Hogwarts, they were going through a new DADA teacher. Discussing it, they wondered if Moody (the real one, not Barty Crouch, Jr.) would try again. 

They hadn't gone very far when the cars stopped in front of the station. Getting out, Harry grabbed a trolley cart and loaded his trunk and Hedwig's cage on it and helped Hermione and Ron load theirs'. "Let's go everyone," This was Mrs. Weasley who led them into the station. 

Just as they entered, they ran into Neville and his grandmother, a tall, old woman with a scarlet handbag, though she had omitted the vulture on her hat that which had set her apart previously. "Harry, Ron, Hermione," Neville called out as he ran over and clapped Harry on the back. Neville's grandmother followed shortly behind him.

"Hi, Nev. How's it hanging?" 

"Great. Hey, I haven't introduced you to my grandmother, Mrs…" 

"Patricia Longbottom, and a pleasure it is to meet you." She walked up to Harry and held out her hand. This confirmed Harry's view that Grandma Longbottom was, like Professor McGonagall, definitely not a woman he wanted to cross, as she radiated a persona of steel. Smiling, he took the hand offered, and replied, "The pleasure is all mine, Ma'am. Neville talks a lot about you at school to me, Ron and Hermione here. Let me just say, he's one of the bravest men I know." Harry was thinking how back in Wales, Neville had jumped the hedge and ran to give him his rifle, whilst under fire. As well as the time in school when he had confronted Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy, and yelled at them "I'm worth a dozen of you", ensuring a punch for his troubles.

"In that case, let _me _just say that I'm glad he has found such fine friends." Turning to Neville, "You take care, Neville dear, and do try not to embarrass the family as much as possible." She hugged him, ruffled his hair (even though he was fifeteen, his grandma still stood taller then him by a good couple of inches) and waved goodbye as she walked to the exit of the train station. Neville joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, the twins, and Ginny as they made their way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. 

Harry's sense increased as he heard a throaty, pleasant female voice ask, "Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me where I can find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" Looking around, he saw that the voice was coming from a girl (_A little shorter then Neville here, my age, black hair, Eastern European of some sort based on the accent, definitely has some gypsy blood in her, dressed in black with a fair sized bust and a decent looking rear. Not bad, not bad at all_, Harry thought) who was asking, without much success, one of the conductors where Platform Nine and Three Quarters was at. Harry had once had the same trouble and thought of helping her out. It was then he had a thunderbolt of an idea.

Quickly, he nudged Neville and told, "Hey go help her out." Neville could see for himself how she looked, and was torn between hanging with his friends, and trying to hang with what was a very nice looking lady. Harry laughed, and pushed him forward; "Go ahead, Nev. We'll see you on the train." Neville grinned sheepishly and pushed his cart over towards the girl and asked, "I can help you, miss." Not wishing to intrude, Harry and the rest pushed on to Platform Nine and Three Quarters

Harry and the rest made their way over to the arch that magically led to the platform and entered in pairs in this order: the twins, the girls, and Harry and Ron, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley taking up the rear. Harry, despite having done this several times before, still was awed by the sights of students and parents preparing to go to Hogwarts, and the sight of the Hogwarts express. In a way to Harry, it was more impressive then Diagon Alley, for Harry long felt his real home had been Hogwarts.

"Ginny!" This came from the excited voice of Colin Creevy who dashed forward to embrace Ginny. Harry leaned back and walked onwards, smiling as he heard Fred quip, "Oi, hands off my sister, you prat!" Reaching the train, he got on board, and moved his trunk into a compartment, and went to say his goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Going back on to the station, he saw that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were saying goodbye first to Colin and Ginny, who went hand in hand to one of the forward cars. Soon everyone else said his or her goodbyes and it was Harry's turn. Hugging Mrs. Weasley, he thanked her for her hospitality, and was waved off as Mrs. Weasley told him; "You are always welcome at our home, Harry." With that she wished him a good school year, and asked him to not get in any trouble. Mr. Weasley shook his hand and warned, "Try not to take any risks, Harry, as things could get ugly." 

"Yes sir," Harry replied as shook Mr. Weasley's hand, and got aboard the train. Going to his compartment, he saw Neville sitting next to the girl from the station; both of them seemed to be talking and generally enjoying each other's company. Harry smiled and thought that Neville really needed a girl, as the last four years had seen him establish new heights as the class idiot. 

Stepping into his compartment, he found Ron and Hermione arguing. "Hey, what's this about? We've barely left the bloody station!" Harry asked exasperated. Hermione pointed a finger at Ron and said, "He was asking what I did in Bulgaria, and if Krum and I…." Ron shot back, "Yeah, just what did you and Vikie Krumm do?" Harry decided to end this here and now, "Look, just shut up the both of you will you?" Harry looked at Hermione and asked, "So, just to settle, is there anything between you and Viktor?" Hermione replied, "As I wrote earlier, I went to Bulgaria, we had a good time, and we left as _friends_. The way I thought we were friends." This last was directed to Ron, who looked as though he were going to say something just as scathing when Harry held up his hand, and told Hermione, "Look, if you know why, you'll understand. You ready to listen? And I promise you Ron will shut up after this." Harry looked over at Ron, who nodded. Hermione folded her arms akimbo and asked, "Well, go on."

Harry took a breath and explained, "Listen, you, Ron, and I have gone through some really crazy business together. You, surely, remember those occasions don't you? The madcap scheme to stop Professor Quirrell back when we were first years, the Chamber of Secrets affair, and the messy business with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew; Ron over there is worried that our trio would be gone forever once you and Krum got together. Right so far, Ron?" Ron, who knew Harry was throwing him an easy way out of confessing his real feelings, started sputtering, "Yeah, it's just that…we've been friends so long…" He shrugged sheepishly, "I'm sorry I've been a stupid prat."

Hermione looked at him, and replied, "After what we have gone through these past years, we are, and always will be friends. No matter what happens." She smiled, "Even if, at times, one of us acts like a prat." Harry laughs, "That we do, that we do. Now, I got this great story of the time…" and started telling a story (one of the milder ones) that Rooney and Courtenay had told him back at Dwrryn Camp.

It was during this time that Hermione brought up something Harry had been able to largely forget. "Harry," she asked in a quiet voice, "are you having nightmares over the Triwizard Tournament." Knowing that he wasn't exactly a good liar (at least to his friends), Harry looked over at Ron and asked, "You told her, Ron?" Ron looked embarrassed, and replied, "Yeah, I mean, who else was I supposed to? I once tried talking to you after everyone was asleep, and you were muttering in your sleep and gripping the sheets, and you were barely breathing mate!" 

Hermione asked gently, "You feel guilty over Cedric Diggory's death still?" Harry looked at her and nodded, "Not as much as I used to, but yes…Were it not for my uncle, I'd have lost it before now." Not giving them a chance to speak, he spoke in an impassive voice, "The day my uncle came to pick me up, I was suffering two or three nightmares, and getting very little sleep. I was becoming a true zombie, as I dreamed of Voldermort killing me, and the fact for a while before the Third Task, I was so jealous and hated Cedric… I believed it was my fault he had gotten killed, if I hadn't been so fucking melodramatic, so wanting to show Cho Chang that _I_ as much as he was worthy of her, that he would be alive right now."

"My uncle, he took me aside and explained to me, in these exact words, 'When Cedric put his name in that Goblet, he knew he was signing his life away, that death might very well be part of the fucking bargain.' My uncle then taught me how to control it, for he's, in a way, worse then I am." 

"How so?" Hermione asked, and Harry explained quickly what little he knew. Ron looked across at him, and spoke for the first time, "He's right, Harry. You had nothing to do with causing his death." He stared at Harry, "There are probably those out there who wished it were you and not Cedric who got killed. Not me, not Hermione, not Fred or George or Ginny. For Cedric may have been a good man, I would rather have seen a good man die, then lose a friend who meant a lot more to me."

Harry didn't say anything, as he felt his eyes mist, and looked at them. Finally, not really trusting his voice, he spoke, "Thank you." Nonetheless, Harry bent over to his trunk, opened it, and pulled out his silver flask. Opening it, he took one long pull, closed it, and put it back in the trunk. Hermione asked, "What was that?" 

"Grog, which is watered down rum. My uncle told me nothing like a slug of rum can calm you down." Realizing Hermione was undoubtedly worried about, he reassured her and Ron he drank only after a nightmare, or when his nerves were frizzed and frazzled. Hermione, while clearly unhappy he was using a crutch in the form of the bottle, nevertheless went along it. Ron, besides asking for a drop of rum (which Harry refused to give), joked with Harry about becoming a drunk. Laughing, Harry got up and decided to change into his school robes and uniform. 

In the bathroom, after he got dressed and was tying the gold and scarlet school tie, Harry took out the badge he had been given and looked at it. Part of him wanted to tell Dumbledore that he didn't accept the position, which he just wanted to live the normal school-wizard's life. Yet every time he did, Harry couldn't help but remember the sight of Cedric falling to the ground.

Setting his jaw, Harry gave himself one last once-over, before heading out into the hallway. There, he heard a thump, followed by a series of gasps and small cries further down the car. Wondering what was happening, Harry walked to the source of the problems, and unsurprisingly, it was Draco Malfoy and his gang of Crabbe, Goyle, and what looked like a pair of second years wearing the colors of Slytherin house. Draco had changed (Crabbe and Goyle looked much the same), like Harry, to the better, as physically he looked like a younger image of his father. It didn't look as though his attitude had changed, for his goon squad was holding down Neville as one of them pulled his head up by his hair, whilst Draco was pinning the dark-haired girl against the wall of one of the compartments. 

Judging by the fact Crabbe looked as though he had trouble breathing (he had his legs crossed also), and the fact Goyle had an unusual lump on his forehead, Neville and the girl hadn't been bullied quietly. "Now, now, Longbottom, I didn't know you felt this way about her. Tell you what I'll do; I'll test this simple Undressing Charm I learned called Linenius Expectarom. So that we can all examine her 'charms'. _All_ of them." He laughed, but was cut short as Harry had crept up behind him, drawn his wand, and placed it directly against Malfoy's blonde head.

"The only thing you will test, Malfoy, is my patience, so let the girl and Neville go." Harry ordered him coldly.

Malfoy's goons noticed him, and within a minute, four wands were pointed at Harry after placing a binding charm on Neville, who was now tied up by a series of ropes. Harry merely dug the tip of his wand into Malfoy's head, causing him to speak, "Well, Potter, it seems the year hasn't even started and you are already acting like the fool you are? Perhaps you are unaware of the consequences of assaulting a school Prefect." Harry, who had seen the list of House Prefects and Head Girl and Boy (Lee Jordan had somehow made it to Head Boy, to the delight of his best friends the Weasley twins), had been dreading such a drama as this happening since then.

"I'm sure you are aware of the punishment for, let's see: sexual assault, assault and battery, and a couple of smaller offenses thrown in for good measure."

"What sexual assault? All I was doing was conducting a thorough search of this individual, who isn't a Hogwarts student and not under the protection of those rules by the way, and a strip search involves undressing, don't you know? As for Longbottom, he was interfering in the operations of a Prefect, perfectly justifiable reasons for my fellow students here to assist me in my duties, and to subdue him with force."

Harry shook his head, and pressed the wand into his head harder. "I'm not warning you again, Malfoy. Let her go, or we'll see a replay of last year's ferret incident. Remember that? Or how about the last time we drew wands on this train? I'm surprised you and your toadies there had all of those hexes removed by now."

Malfoy, still holding on to the girl, replied smoothly, "Since you are as thick headed as your worm of a friend Weasley, perhaps you should count the number of wands pointed against you. You can count to at least five?" Harry thought, _Outnumbered, this whoreson has me by the balls!_ This wasn't a good day out, but Harry didn't have much alternatives. All he could hope was that Ron and Hermione would wonder what was taking him so long, and join him. Until then he had to keep this bastard talking, but about what…

"Now, now Mista Mayfoy, don't you think four to one is too good in the odds department?" This came from right outside the compartment, speaking in a drawling accent, as though the speaker preferred to chew on every syllable he spoke. Using his peripheral vision, Harry saw a man about his height, maybe a year older then Harry, with close-cropped brown hair and wearing a brown business suit and bronze-and-leather bolo tie. He was smiling, and pointing a wand right at Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of Malfoy's crew. 

Malfoy glanced over at him, "Stay out of this, Yank, this doesn't concern you. Plus I don't think you're a crony of his." He jerked his head towards Harry.

The 'Yank' laughed, and shook his head, "Where I come from, insulting a lady is very, very, _very_ much a no-no. You see, we find it very offensive when you do something like say, try to strip a woman naked in public, and as for him, I'm rather glad that there are decent folk out on this train."

Pausing for only a second, he continued, "Now, the odds are two to one, and where I come from, those are fightin' odds." Harry wasn't so confident, thinking, _Shit! First day back, and something out of a Clint Eastwood western happens, only starring Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and some crazy fucking American. _What Harry was thinking of was called a Mexican standoff.  

The way they stood, Malfoy's goons couldn't curse Harry without cursing the girl, and their boss in the process. At the same time Harry couldn't do anything to Malfoy, as Malfoy had his wand out, pointed at the girl, and was still pressed against her. Harry knew that however fast he was with his spells, the girl would suffer also, and that made the whole exercise useless. The American couldn't do anything as he was covering the goon squad (who would move in on Neville if anything happened), and likewise stood in the path of any spells directed against Harry. None of them wanted to be the one who had to be hexed and generally injured this early on in the school year.

Neville, of course, was tied up, and couldn't do anything if he wanted to. 

It was then Harry thought of an idea. "Right, Malfoy, the last thing you want at this rather early stage of the year is to destroy the Hogwarts Express. What you want is to get out of her without getting humiliated as after all, we have the rest of the year to play these silly mind games. So, tell your four intrepid companions to lower their wands and toss them over to the American one at a time. The American will then toss his and their wands out into the hallway. After that, you will hand your wand over to me, I'll put mine down, and then we back away from each other. You will back away from the girl, and I'll back away from you. Clear?"

"Why do I have to make the first move?"

"Because you know I'm too much of a do-gooder to shoot an unarmed man in the back. Even one as repugnant as you."

Malfoy took a moment to digest this then nodded to Crabbe and Goyle, who tossed their wands to the Yank, followed by the other two Slytherins' wands. The American caught them, and together with his wand, tossed them out into the hallway. As he did so, Harry hoped that "_none of these pricks know wand less magic else we're really fucked"_. Harry motioned to Malfoy, "Your turn." Malfoy handed over his wand, and took a step back. Harry took one also and as soon as they were three steps away from each other, Harry pocketed his wand, and threw out Malfoy's. The girl rushed over to Neville, and started helping him out of his ropes. Harry, with a flick of his wrist, severed the ropes using a Severing Charm 

"Now," Harry asked Malfoy, "What was the reason behind this entire scene?" Malfoy smirked, "Don't you know it isn't wise to be impudent to a Prefect?" He pointed to the silver 'P' badge on his robes. "Nonetheless, I'll go out of my way by telling you that I was merely doing my duty by 'examining' this foreign mudblood." Harry looked at him coldly, "What duty, that of your pecker? Also, _mudblood_? What the hell are you talking about?" Malfoy laughed at him, " Don't you know that this little tart is from the Grigorich Institute of Wizardry and Witchcraft? The place where they send those who are mudbloods and worse to get an education in eastern Europe? The ones that aren't accepted by Durmastrong? I don't know why our Headmaster wanted one of them as an exchange student." The girl and Neville had gone back to their seats, where Neville had a hand in one of hers, and both were glaring at Malfoy ferociously. 

Harry was about to lose his temper when a voice called out, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE!!!" Harry thought it sounded like it was Lee Jordan, coming behind him. Sure enough, wearing the Head Boy insignia and sounding none too happy, was Lee Jordan, the school Quidditch announcer and easily the most profane student of the student body. Stomping into the compartment, he glared malevolently at everyone, before he settled on Malfoy.  "Care to explain why I saw drawn wands, and heard allegations of some pretty goddamned serious offenses perpetrated by you and your cronies, Mr. Malfoy?" Not giving him a chance to continue, "Before you even think of some cheeky answer, remember just whom Prefects report to." 

Malfoy glared at him, and replied, "There was no assault, just a scuffle that was settled." Jordan obviously didn't believe him when a cool, female voice spoke from behind, "I concur with him, Lee." A tall, dark-haired girl strode out, wearing the yellow and black of Hufflepuff house. Her name was Wilma Fawcett (she had a sister in Ravenclaw), Head Girl, and she spoke out, "As the impartial observer here, I'll pass punishment here, not you Lee, since there are Gryffindors involved." Jordan, obviously unhappy, nodded briefly, and continued glaring at Malfoy.

"Now, since no one was injured, and there is no evidence beyond unreliable eyewitness testimony ensuring nothing can really be proven… Mr. Malfoy will apologize to the lady he insulted. Mr. Potter will likewise apologize to Mr. Malfoy, and everyone shall return to their compartments. The school year hasn't started, so this will end here and now, and not mentioned any further. Understood?" Harry and Draco nodded, apologized to each other, and after Draco apologized to the dark-haired girl, Draco and his gang left the compartment. The Head Girl and Boy followed shortly thereafter, after warning Harry and the American to never ever draw their wands on anyone or heaven help them for they certainly wouldn't. Ron and Hermione burst in, with Hermione telling Harry, "Thank goodness we saw Lee and Wilma, otherwise we could have been expelled before the year started." Ron, who looked as though joining in the fray wands-first was what he dearly would have desired, glanced at Harry and shrugged.

Harry went over to Neville and asked, "You all right, Nev?" Neville grimaced, nodded, and told him, "Give me a few as they put a minor hex on me making it hurt when I talk." Hermione went over as Harry turned to the girl, who said, "Thank you, Neville tried to stop them but there were too many." Harry shrugged and told her, "It was nothing. Are you all right, Miss…" The girl stopped, and looked down, "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you my family name until after we are introduced at Hogwarts, my orders you understand." Harry shook his head smiling, "Can you tell me your first name then?" She brightened, and held out her hand, "Katrina, and again thank you for helping me and Neville despite how bad it looked." Harry turned to the American and held out his right hand, "You saved my ass back there, and also that of Nev and Katrina over there. You didn't have to do that." Harry made the last sound like a question. 

The American, grinned brightly, and shook Harry's hand vigorously, explaining, "I don't like bullies or braggarts that much and your friend Mayfoy seems to fit the bill to a tee in those categories. Name's Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux, fifth year of the New Orleans Academy of Voodoo, Witchcraft, and Wizardry. My friends call me Doc." Pausing for a second, he spoke again, "You can call me Doc." Harry smiled, "Harry Potter, of Gryffindor house, Hogwarts." Doc looked at him askew, "Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter." Harry started to squirm with embarrassment but nodded. 

Doc grinned, "In that case, let me just say you are the coolest customer I have ever seen. You wouldn't by chance be willing to share that ice water you have in your veins would you?" Harry laughed, and replied, "No, but let me introduce to my friends Ron Weasley, the red head here." Ron held out his hand, and Doc shook it. "Hermione Granger is the brown-haired hair one." Hermione held out her hand, and explained, "Pleasure to meet you." "Pleasure's mine, Miss Granger."

Katrina stared wide-eyed, and spoke, "You're Harry Potter? I have heard so much about you, and this isn't what I really expected. Thank you!"

Harry, slightly embarrassed, introduced Doc to Neville and Katrina, and then with Hermione, who chatted with him about his school in America. Apparently, there were four primary schools of wizardry, with two smaller ones in Alaska and Hawaii. Schools were located in Maine (he said the New England-New York School had had to be moved at least twice in it's history, and was currently near some town called Castle Rock), Louisiana, Arizona, and Montana. Doc was in his fifth year, and had been tabbed as his school's representative. The other schools had, due to the tense situation after the World Cup and Triwizard fiascos, chosen not to send anyone. When Harry asked Doc why his school had sent him, Doc smiled, "Let's just say the Superintendent of my school felt a year away would serve to cool things down after an unfortunate incident I had had with one of the professors, and his daughter." 

They all laughed, and Harry was about to ask Katrina about her school when the train stopped. "Well, looks like we're here. I've got to go help Dean control those first years. See you guys later." Hermione said to the group and took off. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged, "Prefects." 

                                    *          *          *

Meanwhile, at Privet Drive, Alex Evans was in the master bedroom where he opened a trunk that hadn't been opened in years. Briefly looking through it, he picked a red-and-gold necktie. A Gryffindor school tie. Looking at it nostalgically, he spoke to himself, "Oh yes, Harry, you'll be seeing me soon enough."

                                    *          *          *

Harry and Ron, after leaving behind Ron and Neville, and seeing Doc go back to his compartment, went back to their own compartment to see that Hermione had already moved her kit and left behind theirs'. Harry picked up his fedora, and put it on as he could see rain was starting to pour outside. Ever since he had got back, he had been keeping his hair cut short with a square back, and nothing touching his ears. British Army Regulation cut in other words.

"Christ, it looks as bad as it did last year." Ron muttered. Harry shrugged, and together, they dragged their kit outside, where the usual assortment of magical carriages (ones that didn't need horses) was parked. Looking around, Harry saw Hermione, Ernie McMillan, and Dean herding a group of first years towards Hagrid, who waved and yelled, "'Ello Harry." Harry waved set his trunk down and waved back. Doc ran up and asked, "Need a hand there, Harry?" Harry replied, "Thanks," as Doc helped him load his luggage aboard one of the carriages. 

Since Crookshanks (Hermione's cat) was already stretched out on one of the seats, that meant Hermione was sitting aboard this one. Doc had loaded his as well, and together they went back and helped Ron. Hermione joined them and just as they were about to get on the carriage, Malfoy and his cronies Goyle and Crabbe walked by huddled under an umbrella.

Seeing Harry, Malfoy started to speak in a smirking, loud voice. "So anyways, Crabbe, Goyle, I was digging in through my mother's old notebook, and I found this nice little entry talking about the Gryffindor Whore. Apparently, it was about some tasty looking tart with red hair. Lille, Lilly something or another, her last name isn't with me right now." Leering at Harry, Malfoy continued, "Oh wait, it was Evans, I think? Or perhaps it was…Potter!" All three of them laughed and walked to where the rest of Slytherin house appeared to be gathering.

Harry felt the blood start pounding in his head, behind his eyes, and his hand darted into the pocket of his robes where he felt the familiar weight of his wand. It was fortunate that his Browning was packed away in his trunk, unloaded, along with the rest of his gear. Yet, angry as he was, he knew it wouldn't help any if he hexed or injured Malfoy as both of them would be sternly punished, and Harry wasn't in the mood to start racking up detentions this damn early in the school year. He rubbed his fingers along the wand, and suddenly felt something that gave him an idea. 

Grinning coldly, he drew his wand and tossed it Ron, and told him, "Watch that for me, Ron." Walking in the cold downpour, Harry looked straight at Malfoy, who had seen him approaching and was staring at him with his usual loathing. Stopping a meter away from Malfoy, Harry barked out, "Malfoy!" The rest of the Slytherins, with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws looking on curiously, watched him as Malfoy answered back, "What, Potter?"

Harry slid his hand into his pocket and replied, "Speaking of whores, Malfoy…" In a fluidic motion, Harry gripped a bronze Knut he had in his pocket, and tossed it to Malfoy. Malfoy caught it in midair and looked at Harry questioningly. Harry smiled, "Give your mother my regards, and inform her I'll pay her my usual two Knuts once she improves in the fellatio department." Malfoy's eyes started bulging, and became even more so when Harry (he had seen it done on some American science fiction show he had watched over the summer) held up his right hand, and waggled his fingers at Malfoy. Harry remembered that on the TV show the guy who did the gesture said he was going to do that once the bad guy he was talking to had his head placed on a pike. Harry wondered if he would get the chance to do that again, only with Malfoy's head on a pike. Without another word, Harry executed a sharp About Face (he turned on his heel 180 degrees) and strode slowly back to his carriage. He could see Hermione, Doc, and Ron looking at him. 

_Go ahead, you fuck, let's see if you have the balls to shoot a man in the back_, Harry thought viciously. Walking in a cool deliberate pace, he made it to his carriage, got in and sat down next to Doc, whilst Hermione and Ron sat across from them and stared at him open-mouthed. Harry took off his hat, and asked Ron for his wand back. As Ron returned it, Doc spoke once again. "A cool customer, Harry, a cool customer."

Ron remarked, "Harry, that was...wow." Hermione looked unhappy, but nonetheless said, "At least you didn't attack, else I would have had to intervene." Harry smiled, and leaned back into the seat of the carriage, feeling drained by the encounter, as he had really believed Malfoy would try to shoot him while he had his back turned. 

Listening with his eyes closed, he heard Ron and Hermione wonder if Neville had found something with the foreign girl Katrina. Harry jumped in, "Well, if there is, I hope the best for him since we all now the last four years haven't exactly been the easiest for him." Hermione spoke, "Yes, it would be sweet. One thing that is bothering me, and that is that girl reminds me of someone, I just can't remember who." Harry, who had had an eerily similar feeling, shrugged, "We'll find out in due course." 

Soon, they passed under the stone boars of the Hogwarts gate and arrived at the front door of the castle. By now, it was raining even harder then at the station. Leaving their luggage inside the carriages (it would taken up to their rooms for them), Harry, Ron, Hermione and Doc ran up the steps and into the hallway where Professor McGonagall spoke to Doc, "Follow me please, as you and the other exchange student will be sorted into your houses shortly." "Yes, Ma'am" he replied and turned to the trio. Doffing his brown Stetson, he told them, "Thank you for the help, I'll probably be seeing you all afterwards." 

After waving goodbye, Harry and his friend walked out into the Great Hall and saw the site to which Harry had become familiar. Four tables in front of a long horizontal table, golden candles hanging in the air, and the tables in the respective colors of their houses. Harry still remembered his awe when he first entered this room, and looked to the head table. Indeed, there sat the usual assortment of faces. Short, friendly Professor Flitwick, Headmaster Dumbledore with his smile and half moon glasses, and the stern visage of Professor McGonagall. 

Looking around, he saw Doc Detibedeux and Katrina (Doc was in his suit for he had explained that was his school uniform, while Katrina had changed into school robes not much different from Hogwarts style, only the colors were cobalt blue lined with gray compared to the black of Hogwarts with the school insignia of an owl beneath a crossed wand and broomstick on a shield, all silver) sitting in a couple of chairs close door. Taking his seat, Harry continued his inspection of the staff, and found several things that were different from last year, and one of which worried him. First, it looked as though the tall, dark-haired woman sitting where Moody, Lupin, Lockheart, and Quirrell had sat before took the DADA position this year. Harry wondered who she was, but also noticed Professor Binns (the rather boring, ghost Professor of History whose sole purpose in life and death apparently had been to drone on and on about the Goblin Rebellions) was missing. Finally, and this was downright terrifying to Harry, Professor Snape appeared to be _happy_. He was sitting in his chair at the staff table looking towards the front door, with what appeared to be a smile on his face.

The last time Harry remembered Snape smiling, Sirius Black had nearly been killed. Harry hoped this wasn't the case this time.

Taking a seat, he noticed he wasn't the only one noticing anything different as Fred, George, Lee, and pretty much everyone else at the Gryffindor table were excitedly talking about the new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. "I hope she lasts longer then the last one we had." Fred said to the table. "Yeah, heavens knows she certainly looks better then the last four we had." This was George, as he was referring to the fact the last four DADA teachers had been male. Neville was the only one who wasn't joining in the discussion as he was staring towards Katrina as though his life depended on it. Harry grinned, but his thoughts kept returning to just what was going on, and didn't really hear much of the Sorting ceremony (clapping when everyone else did), or the Sorting Hat's song.

His attention was brought back to earth when he saw Dumbledore rise out of his chair and tap the side of one of the goblets at the staff table. "Before we eat, there are several notices I have to announce. The forest is once again forbidden to students, and a strict eleven o'clock curfew is in effect. However, visits to Hogsmeade shall continue as under their normal course, and Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has not added any newer objects to his list of forbidden items." An ironic cheer from Fred and George greeted this. "Yet, with the current state of the Wizard community, newer security measures have been emplaced. Notably, a regiment of goblins with a company of mercenary dwarves attached has been based here in Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade.  Also, you may remember Professor Moody, who, together with former Professor Arabella Figg, shall have the responsibility of security for our school." Dumbledore paused, and looked at the student body. "As part of these arrangements, I have resurrected a student position which has been dormant since the Goblin Rebellion of 1745, and renamed it: The Student Head of Hogwarts Security, previously known as the Defender of Hogwarts." 

This brought muffled conversation, as everyone began discussing who the new Head would be. Harry didn't join in the conversation, as he had the badge in the pocket of his robes that proclaimed what he was. Dumbledore spoke once again, killing the conversations. "This is a post which brings great power, and even greater responsibility. A Head of Hogwarts Security, like the Defender in antiquity, will have complete and total access to the school grounds, forest, and town of Hogsmeade at all days and times. The head will only answer to Professors Moody, Figg, McGonagall, and myself; no one else to include Prefects, and the Head Boy and Girl of our school. However, the head is, due to the strenuous and time-consuming nature of his duties, forbidden from participating in the inter-house Quidditch season, and has far fewer hours of leisure then a student. Indeed, the life-expectancy of a Defender has always been less than one school year, and over six hundred Defenders, Heads of Security, have lost their lives through their years defending this school against any and all comers."

Letting that information hang in the air for a moment, Dumbledore smiled, and spoke with a twinkle in his eyes, "After great thought and consideration, this Year's Head was chosen several weeks before the school year started. After the Head was informed of our offer, and accepted it, the Head was sworn to complete secrecy so that we could announce it today. Many of you are know your Head of Security, and will no doubt wish him the best of luck during his tenure in office." Dumbledore looked towards Harry, "Will the Hogwarts Head of Security please step forward and make his way to this table?" 

Harry sighed, put his fedora on the table, got up, and began walking to the front table. Despite trying to keep his eyes forward, he could tell people were staring at him and whispering to each other. As he walked, he pulled out the leather folder containing his badge, opened it, and placed it (so that badge faced out, he had seen badges worn like this in plenty of cop movies) in a special pocket he had had sewn into his robes. Walking calmly, he looked around and saw Cho Chang looking at him with a deadpan expression on her face. Harry didn't want to think about what she was thinking, and returned his head and eyes forward, looking into infinity like old Tongue had taught him. 

Stopping in front of the table, he turned and faced the assembled student body, and stared into infinity. "Ladies, and gentlemen, the Student Head of Hogwarts Security, Mr. Harry Potter." Harry felt gladdened as he saw Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Fred and George, even Doc Detibedeux rise and start clapping, followed shortly by the rest of the Gryffindors and then Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw house. A few hands clapped briefly, but were silenced quickly, at the Slytherin table. Harry looked to Headmaster Dumbledore, who nodded, and Harry walked quickly back to his table where his friends clapped him on his back and congratulated him, though Fred and George were worried as they had just lost their Seeker.

Dumbledore waited until Harry was seated before continuing. "The next announcement concerns several guests of our school this year. Our Defense against the Dark Arts teacher shall be Miss Ada Ramius, from the Grigorich Institute of Wizardry and Witchcraft. She has agreed to teach for the year, and has brought an exchange student with her." Ada rose, and smiled to crowd as they clapped. "Now," continued Headmaster Dumbledore, "We shall sort the two exchange students into their respective houses. First, it shall be our American guest, Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux, of the New Orleans Academy of Voodoo, Witchcraft, and Wizardry." Doc had risen as he heard his name, walked over to the stool and Sorting Hat (which had been left out there just for the purpose in front of the head table) and put the Hat on. "Mr. Detibedeux has high marks in Defense against the Dark Arts, Divination, and Potions. Additionally, he has led his class in terms of excellence in quidditch, and academic excellence, and will no doubt do credit to whichever house he is sorted into." At that moment the Hat yelled, _GRYFFINDOR_! Harry, Ron, and Neville especially started clapping as they welcomed Doc to the Gryffindor table. "Now that was quite a show, wasn't it?" Doc asked as he gently poked fun at the sorting hat routine. Harry wasn't watching as he noticed, Snape smile broadly and warmly, and started to rise his feet.

This was starting to get pretty damn strange for Harry, and everyone else as Ron whispered, "I wonder what that bastard is so happy about?"

"The next student hails from the Grigorich Institute of Wizardry and Witchcraft, where she is one of the top students of her class in Muggle Studies, Potions, Divinations, Arithmancy, and Defense against the Dark Arts. Additionally, she is the niece of Ms. Ramius, and" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling by now, "the daughter of one of our own staff members. Miss Katrina Snape." With that Katrina rose, and walked to the stool and Sorting Hat. She looked to her father, smiled, and put on the hat.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, indeed the whole student body were speechless. This was about as unexpected as well, well, this had to be _the_ most unexpected thing to ever happen in the recent history of Hogwarts, bar none. _Snape… has a kid…a daughter…Jesus_! Harry thought to himself. Looking at her, Harry saw the resemblance in the black hair (it seemed smooth, and silky, not oily the way Snape's looked), the hooked nose, the way her cheekbones were drawn. Glancing over at Neville, he saw Neville was still looking at her as though she were a brick of gold. Harry hoped that Neville had learned some guts over the summer, for if he was smitten with the Potion Master's daughter, then odds were he was going to need Kevlar guts and a set of brass nuts if he incurred the wrath of Snape.

Looking at Malfoy, Harry almost laughed, for the look on _his_ face was exquisite. Fear, apprehension, all the things Malfoy tried to instill in others. Harry wondered briefly just what Snape would do if he knew what Malfoy had tried to pull on the train.

At the moment though, Snape looked proud and joyful, almost human as he looked at his daughter proudly. In short order, the hat cried out _Gryffindor_. Harry saw that Snape was unconcerned and seemed quite joyful as he started clapping. Neville had leaped to his feet and started applauding as soon as 'Gry' had sounded, and soon all of Gryffindor was applauding. Shortly afterwards, the other houses joined, including Slytherin (though only after Snape had shot one of his trademark icy glares at them). Katrina was beaming as she sat next to Neville and was welcomed by all of the Gryffindors, though everyone seemed stunned that the bane of Gryffindor was human enough to have a child.

Lavender Brown asked her, "We never knew Professor Snape had a daughter. Who is his wife, I mean your mother?" Katrina was un-offended by the question as she replied, "My mother was a witch who died not long after I was born, and I was raised by my aunt in Lithuania, though my father comes to visit me during the Summer and Christmas holidays. When my aunt was asked to teach here for a year, Headmaster Filitov agreed to send me here on an exchange trip." 

Any further questions were temporarily halted as Dumbledore continued his speech. "Finally, it is my sad duty to report that Professor Binns has taken a leave of absence to research a book he plans on writing. Naturally, the subject is a complete history of the Goblin Rebellions." Laughter greeted this as Seamus Finnegan quipped, "No wonder he had us writing all those papers; bugger was cheating!" 

"Nonetheless, our new Professor of History has yet…" It was then the doors to the Great Hall opened. Outside, the rain was pouring, though there was very little thunder. Two men dressed in black, hooded cloaks started marching into the hall, and around the tables. Harry watched them, knowing they weren't Death Eaters as Dumbledore looked unconcerned. Harry could hear the voice of his uncle speaking to him as he wondered who they were. _Look, not glance_, his uncle was telling him and Harry looked.

One man carried a black cane, and seemed to have a walk that was vaguely familiar. The other man was rather short at five foot two inches, and appeared to be on height with Mrs. Weasley. Harry watched the cane man, and noticed the shoes. They were black lace-ups, highly polished, and watched as rainwater slid off the shoes and cloak; the shoes looked identical to the pair he had on at the moment. Looking at him, Harry noticed something about the cane. It was black, and was topped with a miniature Maltese cross surrounded by a wreath, the insignia of Her Majesty's Royal Green Jackets. Harry also noticed how the left leg seemed to have more of limp then the right, and that the man seemed to walk straight-legged, as though using his knees pained him.

"My god!" Harry thought as he realized who it was. By then, the man had reached the front of the table, and tossed off his cloak, to reveal the grinning face of Alex Evans. He had on black robes not dissimilar to student's robes, and had a faded silk tie in the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor house.

Ron nudged Harry, "Isn't that your uncle?" Harry nodded. "As I was saying, this is your new Professor of Magical History, Professor Evans." Alex turned and nodded to the student body, and spoke to the Student Body, "My name is Alexander Evans, and this gentleman with me is my majordomo Billy Fish. He is Nepalese, a Ghurka, but his name is so hard to pronounce appropriately that he tells anyone who isn't from Nepal to call him Billy Fish. Billy's a Squib, but has relations in the wizard world, including one who works for the Nepalese version of the Ministry as its head."

"Tis true, Sahib." The shorter man had pulled down his hood to reveal a grinning, jovial Asiatic face. Harry thought he looked like a relation of Tinsigh Norgay, the Sherpa that had climbed Mt. Everest with Hillary, and the story of which had been a favorite of his in muggle primary school. Dumbledore motioned for Alex to sit in Binns's chair, and conjured up a spare chair at the end of the table for Billy Fish. "Now, I distinctly hear stomachs growling, so…Let's eat." With that, platters of food and drink appeared on the table and everyone dug in. 

Except for Filch, who shot a hating glare at Alex before he moved the stool and Sorting Hat.

Harry took a roasted potato and some roast pork and started to eat. Yet, he really wasn't paying attention to his food as he considered the shocks that had just occurred. _Exchange students, Snape actually happy and having a daughter, and my uncle being one of my professors, and has a servant_, Harry thought, and wondered what else could happen this year.

Part of him was afraid of just what they could be.


	15. Chapter XV: Dilemmas

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Hopefully, I can beat the clock before JK Rowling and BK. V hit the streets, though considering how long it took to type this chapter, I may have to call my story an AU (alternate universe) pretty soon. Hopefully, that won't be disappointing to anyone.

Chapter XV: Dilemmas 

Following the dinner, the houses retired to their separate dormitories. Harry, after a quick briefing with Bladvak informing him that the security aboard the Hogwarts Express had been flawless, went into the Gryffindor Common Room to discover that the Weasley twins had called together an ad hoc meeting of the Quidditch Team, to include Lee Jordan (the announcer) and a host of assorted fans such as the Brothers Creevey and several radically crazy sixth years (one of whom had the 'distinguished' claim of being a professional football hooligan since age eight before coming to Hogwarts). When Harry had entered the common room, he found a scene of pandemonium and loud profanity that was only settled when Fred yelled, "Over here, Harry."

"Yeah, Fred?"

"Harry," Fred explained, "we had planned to put you in as Quidditch captain, but since you got that new post, congratulations by the way, we need to ID a new captain and fast. After that, we need to figure out a reserve team quick like or else it is all over for us." Harry looked around, and decided to follow his instincts on this. "Right…I want to get this straight though, you wanted Ron to be Keeper right?" George nodded, "Yeah, as Ron over there has a hide tough enough to take a good deal of punishment." 

Harry decided to drop the bombshell then and there. "Then I say we use Ron as the Keeper…and as team captain." It looked as though the room was about to break up in pandemonium when Harry slammed a hand down on the table, and told them, "Let me explain. I have solid reasons behind my madness so bear with me." Holding up his right hand, he ticked off a finger as he made a point. "One, I together with the twins got the chance to see Ron in action and have to admit he would make a splendid keeper. Two, the keeper is the only one who spends the most time not chasing a ball of some sort, allowing the Keeper to watch the whole picture, not just chasing the snitch or beating bludgers, meaning the keeper position is the ideal team captain position. Third, quite frankly, Ron has the best eye for tactics I've ever seen, and while I'll grant he doesn't have much experience, he is a fast learner when it comes to Quidditch." Harry paused as everyone laughed and George spoke, "Yeah, that is too true." 

"One final reason: Ron over there is new, so he will be thinking in terms of what is best for the team based on what he sees, and any input you give him while the rest of you would to do things based on your experiences in your position, myself included I should say. This means Ron won't just turn anything down right away, he'll think things through. Can you people live with that?" Fred thought for a moment and then motioned to the Quidditch squad to huddle. It seemed like an eternity as they talked in the far corner of the common room, but they quickly reached a decision. All of them seemed settled on it, and George spoke for them, "Harry, we talked it over and have to admit you made your case." Fred looked over at Ron, "So how about it, Team Captain? You game?" Ron stared at both of them open-mouthed, then shut it and nodded, obviously not trusting himself to speak. 

The room broke into cheers as bottles of butterbeer were placed in the hands of Ron, but things were cut rather short as Fred called out, "Still, that leaves us without a Seeker. Any contenders?" Harry was saved a response when the newest Gryffindor, Doc Detibedeux, came up and spoke in his drawling Louisiana accent, "Seeker you say? What would if I were to tell you that I played Seeker for the past two years for my house in New Orleans? And that we lost only two games out of close to thirty played?" Harry looked at Fred and George, who nodded, and then turned to him, "Right we'll try you on for a couple of games. If you work, we'll use you. If not, we got at least two other candidates: their sister, and her boyfriend." Ginny and Colin both went red at this.

Laughing, Harry pulled the badge he wore out of the pocket he had had sewn and called it a night, though Ron was seemed to be in a bit of shock over becoming team captain and making Keeper.

 His sleep was undisturbed, a pitch-black tunnel.

                        *          *          *

The next morning Harry was shaken awake by a red-coated goblin. After being informed that Moody and Figg required his presence, Harry quickly went to the bathroom, washed, and threw on a set of school robes. The goblin had waited patiently for him and led him to a room on the first floor close to the dungeons. Hogwarts was still asleep at four in the morning Inside was a guarded room filled with dwarves and goblins manning what looked liked various sensors and information machines while Ironhammer, Bladvak, Moody, Figg, Snape, and Alex sat around a rectangular table in the rear of the room. Moody saw him and waved him over. 

"Morning in Harry, care to tell us about…" 

"Why you suddenly felt the urge to draw a wand with hostile intent upon another student?" That was the voice of the Snape Harry knew after four years of Potions with the bastard: cold, sneering, anything but warm and fuzzy. Bladvak looked amused as Ironhammer explained, "The sensors we installed indicated wands were drawn and that there was a slight increase in negative magical energy. We were concerned that something was about to happen, but Bladvak had us wait a minute in case…" 

"It was merely a student scuffle, one best left to the school Prefects and/or Head Boy to break up."

Harry looked over at Snape, "I can explain, but I think Snape might prefer that I…" "No need for that, just tell us what happened." Alex waved him off, even though Snape glared at him angrily. Apparently the list of people actively loathed by Snape was far larger then Harry had previously thought. 

Harry had a sudden vision of telling Snape just what was going through his mind: _You're fair-haired boy and his goon squad were trying to cop a feel on your little girl, and if it weren't for me, Nev, and Doc Detibedeux he would have undoubtedly got quite an eye and a handful. _Resisting that urge, Harry explained, "I walked in on Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and two second year Slytherins as they were in one of the compartments along with Neville Longbottom and…Katrina Snape." Snape's eyes popped briefly before becoming narrowed, but any comment was cut off as Figg motioned for Harry to continue. Harry explained, as professionally as he could, "Malfoy had pinned Miss Snape against the wall and whilst his companions had Neville on the ground subdued. Mister Malfoy then stated his intention to use an Undressing Charm called Linenius Expectarom. Following which…" Harry then explained the whole scene afterwards, excluding the whole drama in the rain with the bronze knut. 

When Harry finally finished, Snape looked as though he were ready to kill someone, but then merely glowered at Harry. _This is bullshit_, Harry thought. "Professor Snape, if you have an issue with me, then please do me the favor of spitting it out on the table." Harry told Snape coldly. Snape eyes blazed, but only for a minute, "No, Potter, I have nothing against _you_ for the moment, the problem I have is…" As though each word hurt him, Snape croaked, "Thank you."

Harry was about to ask a couple of questions about Katrina when Alex, obviously wanting to shift the topic, started to speak, "Well, first priorities. Since there is a fresh batch of students, and older ones are here as well, so security for the Hogwarts Express has proven to be adequate. Any issues, anyone?" Bladvak raised a finger, "One issue, Ironhammer's sensors picked up two unknown targets on brooms shadowing the train on the section between Northumberland and the Coldstream River. When we moved to intercept, they went to earth, and disappeared. Probably Disapparated." He paused, "The targets were emitting the magical energy signature of invisibility cloaks also." Moody and Alex looked at each other, "Sounds like the incident of '79." Moody said. Alex shrugged, "Probing no doubt. Still, the fact they haven't actually attacked or destroyed anyone yet worries me. Constant…" 

"Vigilance!" Harry quipped. After Moody's (Crouch's) tenure as DADA teacher, Harry knew that saying by heart. Alex laughed, and then grew serious as he turned to Snape, "Any new intelligence, Severus?" Snape replied, "Very little which he tells us even in the inner circle. For the most part, he has taken his time punishing those whom he felt lacked faith in him," Snape's eyes seemed guarded as he said this, "besides which, he has been on the move constantly, slowly bringing into the fold those who once served him, and sending envoys out as well. I know the last is certain for Lucius Malfoy made a trip to Russia quite recently, and Avery was sent to Italy on unknown business as well."

This confirmed Harry's suspicions over the summer: Severus Snape had gone back to Voldemort. From what he had been able to figure out, Snape was playing a treacherous game of double agent. Voldemort thought Snape was undoubtedly his man in Hogwarts, while in fact he was working for Dumbledore. Or so Harry hoped, for if Snape weren't then things would probably get very messy. Despite his dislike of the man, thought, Harry had to admit he admired him somewhat as the very deadly game Snape was playing ensured the fact he could face death at any given moment, and since Voldemort didn't fuck around, the death of his daughter as well.

Figg asked him quietly, "What is your evaluation, Severus?" Snape grimaced, "Honestly, I don't know. The only thing I know is that he is moving more slowly, more cautiously, and more thoroughly then previously."

"What of Mueller?" Alex asked. Harry could tell something was wrong for instead of his usual cheerful or unemotional voice, this time it was sharp-edged with a quality that distinctly sounded of rage, hatred, and pain. Snape looked over at Alex, "No, we haven't seen him, and to be quite blunt, I believe I already told you the thing is dead."

Harry looked over Alex, "Who is Mueller?"

Alex shook his head, "Later, later. For now, though…"

Alex stared at Harry, "Harry, this afternoon, after your last class is complete, I want you to meet me in the History of Magic classroom, where the next stage of your training shall begin." 

Harry asked, "What training?" He was intrigued by the prospect.

Moody spoke instead of Alex, "Auror training. Normally, we only train people who have graduated, and had at least five years in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but…" He shrugged, his magical eye darting left and right. "We plan using as much of the standard program as possible, but considering your youth it will have to be modified. Not that we don't believe you can handle it, just the way facts are."

The next hour and a half were spent going over the basic run down of security arrangements in Hogwarts and Hogsmead. Harry was surprised to learn that just about every area of the school was monitored, though Bladvak and Ironhammer were quick to point out that the sensors were attuned primarily to indicate either Dark Magic, or violence of some sort.

"After all, the last thing _I_ want to do is send in a platoon of my men to break up a couple in the exchange of carnal knowledge." Bladvak explained.

Mrs. Figg called the meeting then to order and told Harry, "Now, since there really isn't anything else, I suggest you head over to the Great Hall, I believe breakfast will be served shortly. Oh, and have a good first day."

Harry nodded, said goodbye to everyone, and proceed to the Great Hall. It was now a little past six in the morning, and people were starting to filter in. Entering, he saw Doc Detibedeux lounging at the Gryffindor table munching on an English muffin and a bowl of chicken soup with a tall glass of iced tea at his elbow. "Morning, Doc." Harry called to him as he grabbed a seat across from him. Doc looked up and grinned, "Morning, Harry. You wouldn't by chance know what our first class of the day is by any chance would you?" Harry shook his head, "Nah, leave that to Ron. Trust me, it's worth it just to watch how he acts when he finds out we a class with Slytherins. Speaking of which…"

Looking left and right, Harry asked, "Where's Katrina? For that matter, where is Neville?" Doc laughed, "Yes, Neville is obviously infatuated, though judging by how Katrina acts around him, it appears mutual. Judging from the stories told of him, by him, it seems a woman is just the sort of thing he needs to ensure he doesn't trip over his own two feet. Often." Harry started laughing for a bit, and then noticed Cho with her friends at one of the other tables. Harry watched her for a second, and looked down at his food when she turned to see him.

Doc noticed this, and remarked, "Who is that lovely cup of tea, Harry?" Harry, who had just grabbed a piece of toast, bit into it idly. Doc looked over at Harry, and asked quietly, "You and her an item?" Harry coughed as a crumb of toast got caught in his throat, "No, but I…" "Go ahead, I'm a man who keeps things said to him _to himself _if you understand me?"

Harry found himself unwilling to talk, and shrugged it off, "I had a crush on her, but after what happened last year…" "That cat Diggory was an item with her, eh?" Doc asked. Harry looked at him, and Doc told him, "I heard the story last night as people were wondering what was going to happen this year, and some of the girls were still talking about how he bought the farm." Harry glanced at him and bit at his toast before replying, "Yeah, I suppose he was, and…you hear the part where I brought back his body?" Doc nodded, "Well, I suppose I'll have to talk to her about it, but…I don't think I have the guts." Harry was surprised he was telling a guy he barely knew about such deep things, but reminded himself that this guy risked his ass to help him out when the odd had looked pretty goddamned dismal. 

Doc listened thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged, "I've always found honesty to be generally the way to go on serious issues such as this. My suggestion to you is that, when you get the chance, ask to meet her somewhere private and talk to her about it. Oh, and try to do it before asking her out, or if you do make sure you do it carefully and with a bit of class."

Doc paused and then drank from a glass of grapefruit juice at his elbow and continued, "Now, to a more happier topic, there any rules about inter-house dating?" Harry laughed and shook his head before asking; his thoughts on Cho tucked away, "Why see any you like?" Doc smirked and replied, "There are some rather nice looking women out there, might try my hand at a few." Harry laughed again and wondered whom Doc had the hots for when Ron and Hermione came down. Ron had a slip of parchment in his hands and sat down. 

"Guess what Harry?"

"What, Ron?"

"Our first is with your Uncle, History of Magic. Guess who is right after that class, and doubled with Slytherins?"

"Who, Ron?"

"Potions."

Harry indeed realized today was going to be a strange day indeed.

                        *          *          *

Following breakfast, the Gryffindors moved into the History of Magic classroom. Harry took his usual seat between Hermione and Ron and looked over at his uncle. Eschewing the kind of robes Snape, Flitwick, and other wizards wore, Alex wore his black suit he had bought from Hartwell and Hayes, and the only concessions to the wizard world were his the 'judges' robes (the kind Harry had seen in the old photo of him, Moody, and Longbottom) and the somewhat faded red and gold silk tie around his neck, ensuring he looked not unlike a student. Beyond that there was very little changes to the classroom, with its textbooks, and tables. Indeed, it looked the same as it had the day Harry had last left.

Alex had been examining the homework assignment Binns had given to them when they entered, and as they finished taking their seats he stood up and smiled. Looking at each of them (this was a leadership trick Alex had explained to Harry once, and the trick was to never settle on one person, but to slowly scan the room, making it feel as though each one was looked at in the face) Alex spoke, "Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, I trust you have had a good summer as from here on, I expect you to pay attention diligently. Punishment for dozing off in my classroom will be punished not by such trivialities of losing house points. No," Alex was grinning manically, "one can instead discuss, via three rolls of parchment, how Hogsmeade figured in the Great Goblin Rebellion of 1612." He laughed then, and everyone joined in. Picking up a really old, scruffy looking piece of parchment, he passed it around the classroom.

"I don't mean to malign a teacher, but that parchment proves that dear old Binns may have went a tad too far with the Goblin Rebellion lessons." Harry looked at the paper, and while the title was that of the homework assignment Binns had given them before Summer Break, the name and date were _very_ unique: _Alex S. Evans, Gryffindor, 1977_. Alex smiled briefly as everyone passed it around before continuing, "Now, let me introduce myself: my name is Alexander Evans, formerly of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Department of Mysteries, as well as formerly of Her Majesty's the Queen's Royal Parachute Regiment, Royal Military Academy, and Royal Green Jackets. My mission here, for those of you who are wondering, consists of two portions. The secondary is assist in the creation of a new Dueling Club, with a twist in the form of classes on Muggle Defense. Dumbeldore feels that service as an auror as well as in two muggle wars and several stints in the land of Northern Ireland qualifies me for that job." 

Alex's face now hardened, "The primary focus of this class, however, will be the study of Magical history in regards to the Dark Arts, and the combating thereof. Your Defense against the Dark Arts Class will teach you counter-curses, and curses, hexes and countless ways to magically combat the enemies. Here, you will learn about the enemy. The motives, the methods past and present, and all the myriad details that go into it. Some of you are no doubt wondering what the whole purpose behind all of this?"

The class looked at him, and Alex looked angry for a moment, "Well, what are you waiting for? I asked a question, I expect an answer. And do give me the courtesy of taking notes as this is a classroom in case none of you have noticed." 

Everyone scurried to pull forth parchment and quills as Neville raised his hand, and Alex motioned to him, "Ah, yes, the redoubtable Mr. Longbottom. Tell your peers what your idea of why it is wise to know thy enemy? Do stand, by the way, when you speak."

Standing, Neville looked uncomfortable, but seemed in control of himself. "According to the muggle philosophies on warfare, if you know your enemy, the easier it will be to identify strengths and weaknesses, using them to your advantage by finding ways to lessen his strengths, and preying upon his weaknesses." Alex nodded, "Very good, five points for Gryffindor. So tell me, what do you suppose is the ultimate end goal of the Dark Lord and his minions?" He was asking the class in general. Seamus raised his hand, "Dominion over the Wizard and muggle worlds." 

"Indeed, but that is but a mere portion of what he wants. Any others?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Miss Granger?"

"Power and control over all."

Harry raised his hand and spoke, "Pleasure derived from inflicting suffering."

Alex said, "All three good reasons, and all three are undoubtedly true. Power and control indeed make up the cornerstones of Dark Wizardry. Much of the practices of the Death Eaters involved inflicting suffering on others, and deriving pleasure out of it, and the two principles go in hand with their objective of dominion over the magic world, and eventually the muggle one. The so called superiority of the Wizard race to the muggle one."

Alex snorted, "As though they tend to forget that the Dark Lord himself, indeed all wizards and witches, came from muggle stock at one point or another."

Alex walked around the classroom slowly. "Now, the question I place before you is: are all Death Eaters inherently evil?" Most of the class seemed to be nodding in agreement when Alex looked at them critically and asked, "Very well, let me pose this question to you. We all know the three Unforgivables: the Control, Torture, and Killing Curses. Those are dark magic through and through. Yet let me ask you, do you consider _Wingardium Leviosa_ a form of dark magic?"

The class was looking at him as though he had sprouted horns, which was when Alex grimaced, and waved his wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." He levitated a book and placed it on his desk. Alex then levitated another book, only this time dropping it between Lavender and Parvatti, who gave him a dirty look. Alex smiled as he saw their look, "A common spell, yet depending on the motives of the caster can be used to devastating effect for if that were, say, a tureen of hot soup Ms. Brown and Ms. Patilly, excuse me, Ms. Patil, would be enjoying the finer points of second degree burns."

He walked around the classroom, his magical eye roving. "All magic, with the three exceptions of the Unforgivables, is gray. They are neither good nor evil; only the caster makes that choice. All of you have, perhaps without realizing it, used the Dark Arts in some form or fashion. You may disagree that you have but tell, look me in the eye and tell me this: if the choice came between defending someone you loved or losing that someone, just how far would you go?"

Leaving them with that thought, Alex began going over a detailed lecture over the early years of Voldemort's reign of terror, including the early inefficiencies of the Ministry of Magic's Magical Law Enforcement Department. The class listened with rapt attention as Alex described how it had felt with no one knowing whom to trust and how it seemed every time Voldemort was about to be captured, the trail would be lost and more lives were lost. Finally, after finishing his lecture up to the point where Bartemius Crouch, Sr. had been appointed to become Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, and the authorization by Minister of Magic Appscott to bring in suspects dead or alive.

Hermione raised her hand, and Alex pointed to her, "Yes, Ms. Granger?" Hermione, stood (for one of Alex's rules had been for people to stand when they spoke), and asked, "Sir, was it wise to issue those orders? Weren't there any concerns that…"

"The innocent would suffer with the guilty? Ms. Granger you are asking the wrong man those questions, as I am a very biased observer."

"How?"

"One: I was an auror recruited from this school, in school, and was an auror until I was about nineteen and a half. The second reason is more personal, but nonetheless…I felt, believed in, that when dealing with the sort of scum such as the Death Eaters, there was no such thing as too evil when dealing with them, and that it was better for one innocent to be wronged then to allow a guilty one to go free." Alex looked at them, "No matter, both the ones for or against it have their points. The ones demanding the harsh approach were, are, correct in that one cannot fight a dirty war of this sort without casualties. As for the ones against the harsh approach, they are correct in that taking down the innocents with the guilty undermines the whole effort are correct as well. So what can be done?"

Getting up from the chair that he had been occupying for much of the period, Alex looked around, "The fact of the matter is, nothing can be done. War, the war against the Dark One must be won, for what other options are there? Submitting to the views of the Death Eaters, the principle of so-called purebloods, would result in a wizard population that leads to eventual inbreeding and extinction, yet their point makes sense if the wizard world is to continue surviving, then safeguards must be put in place for while a person may be smart, there are many peoples out there who are not, and regard magic as something to be feared, which is why the so-called Dark Arts are actively taught at places like Durmstrong, Falcon's Keep in the Middle East, and Khankush in southern Asia. Now, for your homework…" The homework assignment was an essay describing their thoughts on the use of Dark Arts, and whether or not their use historically had been, overall, good or bad. Alex's sense of timing proved to be quite good for as soon as he got done telling them about their homework the bell rang, and the class started to pack up and leave. Ron, and Harry were quite surprised as this was the first time that they hadn't fallen asleep in the History of Magic class.

The next class was Potions, with the Slytherins. Going into the dungeon, Harry noticed that Malfoy and his goon squad were strangely quiet, only staring at Harry and his friend malevolently. Snape had been waiting for them, and things seemed to be somewhat normal as he greeted them, "Well, if it isn't Mr. Potter, our head of student security. Tell me, do you know what happens when you mix fire salamander blood with night roots harvested during a new moon?" Harry, who had been rigorously, tutored in Potions, smiled, and replied, "Yes sir, you get the primary base for the Eros potion. In order to complete the potion you need to mix ground up dragon bone with blood moss and brew it in order to complete it." Snape, raised an eyebrow, and asked coldly, "What is the purpose, since you are so well informed, then of the Eros potion, and be so kind as to tell us what the aftereffects of this potion are?"

Harry replied, deadpan, "The purpose of the potion is to protect against veneral diseases and pregnancy. It is best used if both parties partake of it, though it can work if only one of them take it. The side-effects are principally a major headache eight hours after the potion is ingested, indicating that the potion has lost its potency." 

Snape smiled coldly, "It seems you know quite a bit of such a Potion? As though, you had had to use such a potion for a long, long time." Harry looked at him just as coldly, "I've had to make quite it a few times as part of my summertime Potions tutoring. To include ingesting it, I might add." Snape decided to leave it there as he turned to the class and laid out the first lessons. Apparently, they were going to review all their healing potions (to include poison antidotes as well as the usual ones that involved curing minor blisters, cuts, scrapes, and the like) and then move on to several ones that involved mending bones, stopping blood loss, and even ones that caused the heart to start beating once again.

For once, trouble didn't seem to be occurring in the classroom as Malfoy (whom Harry noticed was desperately avoiding Snape) kept to himself, and just as miraculous as Neville. Neville had partnered up with Katrina, and Snape, while acting towards the whole class in a cold, but professional manner, had seemed to lessen his usual harassment of the poor man. The miracle had been the fact for once Neville didn't suffer a Potions disaster, and had actually completed his project, if not greatly, then adequately enough that nothing was destroyed in the process.

                        *          *          *

Following lunch, and Divination (Harry wasn't surprised in that Madam Trelawney predicted his demise, and Harry had followed through predicting he was going to die a slow, painful death involving wild animals), Harry made his way back to the History of Magic classroom. Entering, he saw Moody, Alex, and Figg waiting for him. Figg motioned for him to get closer, then pointed her wand to the door. "_Hamora_" Harry heard the clicking of the door as it locked. Alex cast the kind of silencing charm.

Figg explained to him, "Harry, the next phase of training will involved curses and hexes that are frowned on by both Albus and the Ministry. The curses can cause death indirectly, but have their uses in medicine and industry, which is why they are tolerate. Any questions before we begin?"

"Does the Headmaster know of this?"

"Indeed, he does, Harry."

Harry whirled to see Dumbledore standing in one of the corners of the classroom. He wasn't smiling, and his tone was all business. "I don't approve of the whole student body learning these curses, but the fact remains these are going to be trying times, and we will need every advantage we can muster. That includes training in arts of magic that normally wouldn't be used." Albus had what Alex had called the steel, the way a commander looked when he was forced to do something which was unpleasant to those he commanded, but necessary.

Looking over at Harry, "However, due to the onerous nature of the training which would be undertaken, the choice is up to you. Again, if you have no wish to undertake this training, then by all means you may leave, and none of us will think the less of you."

Harry looked around at the faces looking at him expressionessly, yet his mind had already been made up. Even though he had better control of his facilities, the nightmares had plagued him during the summer holiday in Wales and at the Burrow. In his mind, Harry remembered the sight of Diggory, and imagined people whom he was attached to going out like that, and in his ears he could almost hear Voldemort laughing at him right now. 

Steeling himself, he looked at Albus, "I'll stay, and I'll learn."

Albus nodded, and said, "I wish you then the best of luck, for upon your shoulders rests a great duty, and a great responsibility which I have every confidence that you will carry out successfully."

Dumbledore turned, cast Alahomora, walked out the door, and closed it. Harry heard it lock once more, and then turned to the business ahead.  


	16. Chapter XVI: The Three

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Chapter XVI: The Three 

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room slightly subdued, rather sore, and very tired since it was close to midnight. Put simply, the Auror training they had had him undergo was…_Fucking rough_, Harry thought to himself. They had spent almost five hours training him in curses and hexes he had never heard of before. 

At first, they had started out easy, practicing simple spells: Stupefy, Expelliarmius, Impedimentia. From there, they had started work on various body locks, such as Petrificus Totalus, and counter curses. Harry found the review quite simple as he had had to do the same thing the last month he spent at his uncle's, and the fact that the primary focus of his wand less magic training had been counter curses worked much to his favor. As a result, he was able to fire a curse while casting a counter curse simultaneously. After they judged him competent, they wheeled forth a hanging skeleton, a tray holding a piece of beef, and a live rat.

Alex had shown three spells that had Harry wondering why he had never seen them used before. There was Destructus, a spell that targeted anything be it bone or ligament, causing it to explode into very small pieces. Another spell had been Pyrio, a spell causing whatever it targeted to light on fire. Number three had been a spell Ripperus Laceratus, a spell, that depending on it was used, caused multiple lacerations on the flesh of the target. All three were in a higher category on the Restricted List of curses, and were just below the Unforgiveables. All three had been demonstrated on the skeleton, the meat, and the rat. Harry, who had killed before, nevertheless found it intimidating watching a rat burn. Alex had had to kill it using the Killing Curse, and they had practiced for almost three hours, using pretty much everything short of the Avada Kadavra. 

Shortly afterwards they released Harry, after warning him that he wasn't to share his knowledge with his peers without their permission. Marching through the deserted halls of Hogwarts, Harry had wanted nothing more then to wash, change into a set of pajamas and sleep for the next four hours, which was when the early morning briefing would be held. Yet Harry found this wasn't the case, as Hermione and Ron were waiting for him as he entered the Common Room.

"Where were you, Harry?"

"I was with Alex, Figg, and Moody. Don't ask doing what as they'll have my ass if I tell them."

Hermione looked as though she was going to ask something, but Ron held her back. Harry sighed, "Look, I'm sorry, but that's what my orders are."

Ron shrugged, "It's all right, Harry. Just that we were wondering what was happening to you."

"Yeah, if this is the way it will be all year, then the exhaustion will kill you."

Harry, desperate to change two very uncomfortable topics, asked Ron, "What's tomorrow's schedule look like, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, "Defense against the Dark Arts in the Morning, then Herbology, and finally Care of Magical Creatures. Both with the Hufflepuffs."

  
Thanking him, Harry said goodnight to them, and went upstairs where he, in a zombie like state, showered and changed into a set of pajamas he had bought over the summer. Afterwards, he climbed into bed, and passed out.

                        *          *          *

_Reddish eyes glared at him, then a bolt of green._

_Cho Chang yelling at him, "It was your fault, you killed him!" Followed by another bolt of green._

_Malfoy grinning, "You let the pretty fool die, tisk tisk." _

_One final bolt and a long spiral down into the all-enveloping darkness that Harry could feel had no return._

Harry awoke suddenly, drenched in sweat and shaking. It was the same feeling he had had after combat, with the fear and raw adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the shakes that followed, leaving one without a single erg of energy left in you. Grasping along, he opened his school trunk and pulled out his flask, unscrewed, and took a long pull of the grog he had left in it. Within a minute, it was empty and Harry tossed it back into his trunk. The shakes and sweat, while still happening, had at least slowed down after almost a half pint of the rum and water Harry had left in the flask.

Glancing at the clock mounted on one of the walls in the dorm, Harry saw it was three in the morning. He had had barely three hours of sleep, and felt restless enough that he decided to go and wash up early. _Maybe the steam will let me sleep a little, _Harry thought to himself as he spoke the password (Mulberry) and entered. Stripping down to his shorts, he spent about an hour knocking off calisthenetics before filling up the swimming pool sized tub with water and swimming for another hour. Since everyone in the castle usually awoke around six to seven and classes started around eight, Harry was in no real rush and allowed the hot water to soothe him. Dozing off for a moment, Harry daydreamed of the more pleasant times he had had at Meg's, with its drinking and debauchery. The thought made him smile as he could once again picture the headlines in the _Daily Prophet_, "Harry Potter: Sexual Degenerate"

Yet even as he was enjoying the relaxing sensation of hot water, and perfumed bubbles, Harry had a prickly sensation at the back of his head. The same kind of feeling he had had back in Wales that had probably saved his life. Shaking his head, Harry thought to himself, _snap out of it, Harry! Who the hell would want to take you out in the middle of male Prefects' washroom!_ It was then Harry remembered the _other_ time he had been in the Prefects' bathroom, and he smiled to himself.

Lying back against the side of the tub, he moved a few bubbles to cover himself decently, and called out cheerfully, "Got an eyeful, Myrtle?" Hearing a slight, tinkling laughter, Harry watched as the ghostly form of a thin, rather sad-faced girl wearing a Hogwarts school uniform come floating out of one of the sinks. "Well, you seem to be coming back here more often, don't you Harry? And less shy too it seems." Harry, who was quite comfortable with being naked (after losing his shyness from almost a month's worth of  'exploration' with the warm young women of Meg's) smiled, "Why of course, your company alone is worth it. Speaking of which, you seem to be happier then you normally are?" Myrtle, called Moaning Myrtle because her usual haunting grounds were one of the girl's bathrooms, smiled and replied, "I took a trip to France, a nice place called Toulouse and met a ghost only a century and a half older then me, but he died young and he was seems nice." Harry smiled; as Myrtle smiling and talking somewhat cheerfully was better then her crying.

"He has a name?"

"Rifleman Ned Hathway of the Royal American Rifles."

Harry listened as Myrtle told of the wonderful younger ghost she had met during her trip, and then was surprised as she asked shyly, "Do you think I'm beautiful, Harry?" Harry replied, "Well, let's say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Don't cry!" Harry held up a hand as he saw the look on her face. She replied, "Then name at least one thing truly beautiful about me!"

"Your voice. The sound of your laughter is truly unique and quite wondrous to behold. Especially since this is the first time I've heard it." 

This seemed to brighten her up, and Harry had a wild thought, _why the hell not? The twins will think it spectacular and she needs something to cheer her up, and I owe her for a bit of help she gave me last year._

"Tell you what, if they have a dance or ball this year, I'll have this friend of mine you would like take you. How's that sound?'

"Why can't you?"

"I was appointed Student Head of Hogwarts Security, and wouldn't be able to treat you right. But, I have a friend whom I'll introduce to you when the time is right. You'll like him."

Myrtle seemed happy, and soon left as she said she had agreed to help testify on Nearly Headless Nick's behalf as he prepared for yet another attempt to join the headless hunt. As soon as she left, Harry rinsed off, shaved, slapped on some deodorant, and changed into a clean set of underwear and school robes (sweater in Gryffindor trim, house tie, white shirt, black trousers, and the actual robes which resembled something a judge wore). Dropping his dirty laundry off at a basket he kept in under his bed, he grabbed his school bag and headed off towards the Command Post the goblin had set up on the first floor. Entering, he was greeted by nods from the goblin and dwarf technicians manning the various stations and headed towards the table wear Snape, Alex, Figg, Moody, Bladvak, Ironhammer, and Dumbledore were sitting. 

After greeting them, Snape wordlessly passed over a newspaper Harry recognized as the _Daily Prophet_. Harry looked at the headline, and sighed. It read: _Death at Triwizard Tournament! Ministry inquiry pending as foul play involving Boy-Who-Lived possibility_. Reading the details, Harry saw that Fudge had placed the inquiry into the hands of Diggory, with his second in command as Percy Weasley. Looking over at Dumbledore, he asked, "I presume they'll want to question me. When, sir?"

Dumbledore replied, "I don't know, as this is the first I have heard of it. Should they contact me, you'll be the first to know."

Alex looked over at Moody, and said, "Assassination." Moody and Figg nodded, whilst Snape kept his silence. Harry was confused as he asked, "Assassination?" 

Alex explained, "Assassination comes in two forms: physical, and character. The ministry, particularly under Fudge, has made much use of the latter whenever they find it convenient, though the former has been used on occasion by our side as well." Pausing, Alex looked at the front page of the paper before continuing, "The last thing Fudge wants is for news of the Dark Lord's return to come out, though personally I think even if it did the reaction would be one where everyone's divided over the fact he has returned or not. Anyhow, Fudge and his minions will do everything in their power to bury the truth, and the easiest way to do that is to discredit and bury you."

Staring hard at Harry, Alex finished, "In other words, expect knives in the back not just from the enemy, but from some of your 'friends' lad."

                        *          *          *

After a rather boring briefing (Snape had nothing to new to report as he hadn't been called since two days before school started), Harry walked out to the Great Hall with his book bag slung over a shoulder and hoping for some breakfast. While he had expected something like this to happen, Harry still felt as though someone had socked him in the gut once again. Outwardly, he knew he looked emotionless, but inwardly he was steaming. _I am not even old enough to fucking drive a goddamn car, and yet they consider me capable enough of murdering Diggory!_ Harry knew that this feeling wasn't just by Fudge and his supporters, but also within the school as one day back had shown him just how bad things were. True, he had been expecting the Slytherins to take things personal, and even expected somewhat Hufflepuff house to treat him coldly, but things had gone far, far worse. While it was too early to tell, Hufflepuff house, with who Gryffindor were usually on good relations, appeared to be cold and distant to Harry, and seemed to be cooperating with the Slytherins in making him miserable. The same held true for Ravenclaw.

 Still in thought, Harry sat down at the table across from Doc Detibedeux, again the first at the table. This time, Doc was eating a plate of fried eggs (sunny side up), ham, fried potatoes, and bread with a plate of plums and nectarines next to him. Doc looked up as Harry sat down, and asked, "Ya read the paper?" Harry, seeing that Doc had a copy in front of him, nodded and replied, "Yeah, but please wait until Hermione and Ron get here. Last damn thing I want is to have to keep explaining this again and again." Doc looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and handed him a goblet of coffee.

"Here, you look like shit and this should patch you up." Harry took a sip and almost choked. Seeing the expression on his face, Doc grinned, "I take it you never had GI coffee?" Harry shook his head, and moved it aside, and asked, "So, Ron tell you guys when practice starts?" Doc and Harry started talking about the upcoming Quidditch season, and were soon joined by Ron and Hermione, who as soon as they sat down asked Harry about the newspaper article. Harry, expecting this, filled them in as best as he could, which wasn't much. Hermione asked, "Have you talked to Sirius about this?" Harry shook his head, "Last they told me what they were doing, I was told it would be a long time before they could answer, so I'll be pretty much on my own throughout the year. Well, except for you guys." Ron snorted, "Yeah, only if Hermione won't squeal on us seeing as how she is a Prefect now." Harry knowing that an argument was about to break out for who knew how long merely sighed, and tried to eat, for he had a strange feeling he was going to need his strength later on.

                        *          *          *

After breakfast (Ron and Hermione's argument had eventually died out) Harry walked with the rest of the Gryffindors to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor Ramius was standing by her desk with a slight smile on her face. As soon as everyone was seated and the bell rang, she spoke, "Good morning" and proceeded to take roll. After that was done, she opened the class textbook (_Defending Yourself against the Dark Arts: Year Five_) and spoke, "Now, I read the report the Headmaster gave me in regards to your education. The reading alone is quite interesting. Four teachers in four years, to include one who was possessed by the Dark Lord, another who was a lying braggart, a werewolf, and your last one was a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion. Interesting indeed." She paused, and looked over them all, "Now, your education in regards to common dark creatures has been quite good, as well as your previous year here was quite well done in regards to curses. However," Ramius looked at them closely, "your education for your fifth year, advanced dark creatures, has not been quite successful as advanced dark curses and the defense against them was scheduled for this year. So," she clapped her hands, "name several of the more advanced ones, please."

"Werewolves" Seamus Finnegan answered.

"Giants" Parvati Patil spoke next to her friend Lavender Brown

"Vampires" Hermione Granger had answered.

Harry raised his hand, "Dementors." Even though it had been almost two years since he had had a run-in with a Dementor, he still remembered the time he had almost had the Dementor's Kiss placed on him.

Professor Ramius had been writing down the answers, and looked up as no more hands were raised. She arched an eyebrow, "No more?" Everyone shook their heads. She replied, "Good, those are the four advanced dark creatures, though during the course of our studies we will be examining goblins, elves, and dwarves. Does anyone know why?" Harry raised his hand. 

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"All of the ones you have mentioned have a means of intelligence and cunning. Almost human-like."

"Very interesting observation, Mr. Potter. Yes, it is for the reason of intelligence that those creatures are considered advanced over grinddylows, boggarts, and the like. The latter three are studied for elves, goblins, and dwarves are all-magical, and have gone dark from time to time. Now, open your book to…" She ordered them to open their books to the first half, which had a review of the previous year's materials. For the rest of the period, she reviewed the simple creatures that they had gone over the first three years at Hogwarts, and then moved on with an overall view of the seven non-human creatures. Harry, who had spent the last month in a far more rigorous environment learning how to kill and maim, as well to defend against, the creatures being lectured.

Ramius was quite talented though, and five minutes before the class ended, she spoke. "Class, before you leave for your next class, I have a quick announcement to make. The Headmaster, following the advice of myself, and several other staff members, has decided that there should be an organized series of school social events." She smiled, "Also known as balls or dances." There was a great murmur amongst the class. "The first one shall be on the Saturday before Halloween, whilst the second shall be the Yule Ball be during the Christmas season. Hogwarts's final one shall be sometime in the spring or summer, probably sometime after the OWL tests and NEWTs. Good day, and I hope you are anticipating the Halloween Ball that is approaching."

Harry looked over at Ron, and both of them muttered, "FUCK!!!"

                        *          *          *

Harry spent the rest of the day wondering how he was going to sort out his life. On one hand, he still had the crush on Cho Chang (one which, if anything, had gotten worse over time and 'exploration'), yet Harry was enough of a realist to know that his coming home alive, while Diggory had come back a corpse, would hang over anything he did in _this_ school for a very long time. 

Indeed, for a while after the Tournament, he had had the hope that maybe the school body (excluding the Slytherins, he knew anything he did was just ammunition for them) would treat him fairly, but over the summer had realized that was just wishful thinking. No, while he _thought_ he knew a few people would hold him responsible, it was just that he wasn't expecting the sheer hostility that prevailed from Hufflepuff house in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Indeed, he had to remind himself that these weren't Slytherins, the way they acted around him was enough to make him want to cry, or to lash out in anger.

Professor Sprout had gone from fairly friendly to become Snape the way he currently was: cold, distant, but professional. Hagrid was the exact opposite, welcoming Harry back heartily as he began with a review of various magical creatures. Apparently, the threat of the OWLs had even made Hagrid develop an orthodox lesson plan.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry held back as they were eager to talk to Hagrid. Harry asked," So, how was your summer, Hagrid?" Hagrid looked at him, and smiled, "Very well…relaxing I suppose you could say. Saw a bit of France thanks to Olymp I mean Madame Maxinne." Hermione was quite impatient, "What about your mission to visit the giants?" Hagrid looked uncomfortable, "Well, er, I don't know what you're talking about Hermione. Even if such an event did happen, I couldn't tell you about it, not even Harry over there." Hermione looked frustrated, but Harry cut her off, "All right, Hagrid, we'll stop by for tea some time. That all right?" Quickly, Ron and Harry waved goodbye as they led Hermione away.

As soon as they were out of site, Hermione exploded, "Why the hell did you drag me out of there!"  Harry looked at her, but Ron beat him to telling her. "Simple, Hagrid's doing his job. If he told us, it could very well spread and whatever is happening with the giants would be for naught." Harry said also, "It's a simple rule, Hermione. The less any of us know, the less we will tell should anything happen to us." Both Ron and Hermione looked at him askew, and Harry decided now was not the time to be pleasant. 

"Hermione, with the ways things are happening, anything could happen. And since you're friends with me, if you're not riding in the death seat you're pretty damn close to it." Harry said the last with a bit of an edge to his voice and had to stop as he could just feel himself almost losing it. _Those assholes are getting to me more then I can believe, _Harry realized. 

Ron and Hermione didn't say anything and together they walked to the Great Hall in a restrained silence and ran into Neville, who seemed unusually silent.

Not that Harry noticed much beyond a wondering, _Wonder what's got him so damn blue, it isn't as though the whole fucking school is nigh against him!_

                        *          *          *

The next several weeks were spent tougher, colder, and longer. Class work was far more demanding as Harry cynically thought the teachers wanted to cram a last scrap of information into their heads. Alex and Professor Ramius were excellent teachers, and Harry was quite comfortable academically, even in the area of Potions as Snape, while still pushing them hard, was no longer going out of his way to antagonize and generally humiliate the denizens of Gryffindor house, no doubt due to the rather calming influence of his own daughter..

Security wise things were quite quiet. Quidditch practice had begun and Harry had spent a few hours watching them at practice. His initial thoughts on Ron had proven to be on the dime as he knew just how to handle himself under pressure, and definitely knew his Quidditch tactics. The fact he had the all-important skill of a leader (to listen to those subordinates with more experience then him in Quidditch) was a bonus.

Snape, beyond informing them that Voldemort was taking his revenge on his closet followers, was doing surprisingly little. Harry wasn't sure if he found the lack of activity comforting or more worrisome.

The newspaper attacks on him had become subdued, and Harry was quite surprised that no one had mentioned his appointment as Student Head of Hogwarts Security. It could only mean Fudge was cracking down on any news of Harry while he and his pet Diggory did their own investigation. Again, mixed feelings.

The Dueling and Defense with Muggle Weapons Clubs had started under the tutelage of Alex, Snape, and Professor Flitwick, whom Harry had been surprised to learn was one of only a baker's dozen worth of people who had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class twice, both times for valor. Harry found it refreshing, and indeed somewhat therapeutic to grapple in unarmed combat, fling curses and hexes at people his age in mock duels (he routinely found himself sparring against the three teachers), and fire a few hundred rounds of through his Browning and the other weaponry Alex had arranged at the rifle and pistol range near the edge of the Forbidden Forest (Alex and Billy Fish had set it up within a few days of arriving at Hogwarts). 

Indeed, the smells of burnt cordite, WD-40 bore cleaner, and lubricant was almost comforting to Harry as he grew increasingly reclusive. The school was divided into two camps: those who believed Dumbledore that Voldemort had returned, and that Harry was sane, and those who believed the Headmaster was mad and was covering up for Harry's madness. There was a subcategory of this last group who devoutly believed Harry had snuffed Diggory to gain glory. At times, Harry had had to restrain himself from drawing his wand and cursing them. Or using the dagger he had strapped to his left wrist. Or any of the numerable weapons he had at his disposal.

Harry one day thought during dinner in the Great Hall. _If I never knew of magic, I probably would have been counting the days this year so that as soon as I hit sixteen I could go sign my name on the dotted line and joined the Army._

_The life _is _rather appealing…Want to drink? Open a few brews. Want a woman? Find the nearest brothel and beg, borrow or steal the cash for it. Angry at the barkeep? Stitch the place up and damn the consequences._ _Simple things really, not like this goddamn fucking… _

Harry's inner revelry was broken as he heard Doc ask him a question. Shaking his head, he asked, "What was that Doc?" Doc grinned, "You get a date yet, Harry?" Harry looked at him in confusion for a moment before he remembered that the Halloween Feast and Ball was only about less then a week away. The whole school had the same kind of charged atmosphere that had been present when the Yule Ball occurred, but Harry had been too busy with study, his duties, training, and the task of propping up Ron, who seemed to be only a thread away from losing it all as he led the Quidditch team in practice.

"No, you?" 

"Nah, I gave my word to my Headmaster that I won't rock the bed so to speak whilst I'm over here. So, I'll just wait until I find someone who doesn't look she can go and…  
  


Harry just had a lightning bolt of an idea, and broached it to Doc. Doc heard him out, and looked thoughtful for a moment, before replying. "I must admit the idea has merit to it, and the girl sounds intriguing. Not to mention the ruckus it would cause. Where did you say I can meet her again?" "Second floor, and…" Harry gave him the directions just as Hermione and Ron sat at the table. The two of them seemed to be arguing (again), this time over some assignment, but Harry wasn't exactly paying attention. He had found it calmed his temper to 'zone' out whenever he heard them.

Glancing around, he caught the eye of Cho, and looked at her. Her face seemed distant, almost expressionless. They looked at each other for a few moments, and Harry awkwardly waved to her. Cho smiled slightly, and waved back. Harry decided it was time then to talk with Cho, to see if his crush was just that, a childish crush, or something else, something worth pursuing.

Waiting patiently, Harry watched, as it looked like Cho was about to leave, and then saw her get up and go with the usual gang of her followers. _Oh fuck it! Who dares wins, Harry my lad!_ Harry thought to himself. "I'll see you later", Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione and got up and left after Cho. 

Walking into the hallway, he saw them chatting away and walking towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. Harry called out, "Cho!" The whole gang turned to look at him coldly, and Harry didn't want to lose the moment.

"May I have a word with you for a moment, Cho? In private, please?"

Cho spoke, "Sure," and told her friends she would see them later. Harry and Cho walked down the hall and outside of the castle to the paved walk to the Quidditch pitch. Stopping near a fountain Harry spotted, he looked at Cho and said, "Cho, you know that the Halloween Ball is within a few days from now. I wish to ask you to come with me." Cho looked at him, her lips slightly open. Harry continued, realizing that this had probably been a futile idea. "I know you and Cedric Diggory were…close, and I understand if you have no wish to go with someone…such as myself." Every syllable he said hurt him, as Harry thought to himself, _You thought she wanted to go out with the man who saw her boyfriend, or friend or whatever get iced? You fucking stupid or something? Fucking dolt!_

Harry turned and was about to leave, when Cho spoke, "Tell me…" Turning, Harry saw Cho ask in a quiet voice, "Tell me how Cedric died." Harry sighed, and minced no words, telling her honestly of everything that had happened after they had the cup. "He went out quick, and since he didn't know what was happening I don't think he felt any pain." Cho looked down, and asked the question Harry had been dreading the most. "Harry did you want him to die?" Harry knew the only answer he could live with himself with would have to be an honest one.

"Dead? I don't really know. Was I jealous of him for besting me at Quidditch, popularity, and…taking you to the ball? Yes. Did I wish him ill? Yes. Was I thinking ill of him when I thought he was about to beat me to the cup? Yes."

Harry paused and looked at the starry sky above him. There were only a few clouds above, looking like bits of dirty gray lint in the darkness. He looked Cho in the eyes. "Did I really, truly wish him to die? No. I am only human, and when you are jealous of someone, well, you think things to yourself that you normally keep buried. Since you asked, I felt I owed you an honest answer, and that is what I have given you. I can only hope you, don't think less of me as a result of it." Cho was silent, and it looked like her eyes were watering. Harry knew what he wanted to do, but didn't wish to offend her by taking her into his arms. 

Cho answered, "No, Harry, thank you for your honesty. You are a good man." She got up, and looked at him. Her right hand came out and caressed the scar on his forehead. Harry stood still, savoring the feel of her fingernail as it slowly traced the lightning bolt. "So was Cedric, Harry." With that, Cho raised the hand that had been caressing his scar, and slapped him across the face.

Harry was stunned, the blow stinging across his cheek as though someone had slammed a cloth of heated pins onto his cheek. Cho was slowly leaking tears down her face. "He was a good man. Both of you are good men." She turned away from him for a moment, and looked at him, "That is the problem, Harry, since…" Cho looked as though she were going to break down.

"It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you."

Harry felt a roaring in his brain, and then the odd jazzy melody he remembered off a muggle movie he had once seen called Pulp something or another. The music was called Comanche or similar, and Harry found himself listening to the song as it played in the jukebox of his mind.

As if it were someone else speaking, Harry heard himself say, "I know, and there are times I wish it was just so. Good night, Miss Cho Chang." He turned and walked away from her, leaving Cho behind him. For a time, Harry didn't know how long, he walked, his mind repeating the words Cho had said to him to the background of the damn music. _It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you_. 

_It should have been you._

His mind felt drained, emptied, and inside he felt as though a chunk of lead was in him. It wasn't until he heard laughter did he realize he had walked out of the Hogwarts grounds, and was in the town of Hogsmeade. Harry thought of running back to Hogwarts, and then thought, _fuck it_. He had been told that the damned badge he wore (he was carrying it in his pocket at the moment) gave him access at any time he pleased to the town, and he intended on using it. At the moment, he wanted a strong drink, a good smoke, and (if he could find one) a good whore. Personally, he figured if got the first of the three he probably couldn't care less. 

Yet, if he were to be seen 'hitting the ville' as he had heard Doc Detibedeux call it, Harry knew his damn predicament ensured that the whole goddamn wizarding world of Great Britain, Northern Ireland, and probably the whole of Europe and the world would see the headline: _Boy Who Lived Caught Dead Drunk and propositioning Prostitute in a Hogsmeade Alley!_ _The _last goddamn thing he needed was to be caught with one hand on a liquor bottle and the other up the skirt of a tavern wench.

So, Harry turned and walked back towards the Castle. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was only ten thirty, and he went up to the Gryffindor common room.

Since there was an eleven o'clock curfew in place, the place was unusually full, though he didn't see anyone he particularly knew or felt like talking to. Indeed the only person he knew first-hand was Neville who was sitting by the fireplace and staring at it and appeared to be thinking deeply. Since he appeared as occupied as Harry, Harry grabbed the seat across from Neville and sat down. Neville looked over at him, "Hey Harry."

"Hey, Nev."

"What happened to you?"

"I asked out Cho, and she told me off and then some. You?"

"Let's just say I made a deal with the devil."

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but asked anyways. "Want to talk about it?"

Neville was quiet for a second and then looked at him. "Tomorrow, something will happen that will either make this year for me, or ruin it completely." He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I relieve you, Harry from the promise I had you make on your birthday."

Harry nodded, though he wondered just what the hell Neville was playing at. Neville asked him, "Want to talk of what happened to _you_?" Just as Harry was about to answer, Ron and Hermione sat down in the remaining chairs near them. Hermione asked as soon as she sat down, "Harry, where did you go after dinner?"

"Yeah, we were looking all over for you."

Harry contemplated what he was going to say for a moment before deciding honesty with his friends would probably save him trouble down the road. "I asked out Cho to the Halloween ball. She asked about how Cedric bought it, I told her." Harry looked into the fire. "She then slapped me, and gave the opinion which apparently the rest of the whole damn school outside of Gryffindor shares."

Softly, almost whispering, Harry repeated the words that were haunting him.

" 'It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you.'" 

Ron swore. Hermione looked aghast. Neville was shaking his head, and muttering foul obscenities. 

Harry felt the urge then to go for a walk, and got up and left the Common Room.

"Where are you going?" This was Hermione asking, a note of concern high in her voice.

Harry looked back at her, and his friend Ron and Neville. "I'm going to inform my uncle that I'll be going to the ball alone. He needs to know, you see, so that the security details for the event won't allow your average gang of Death Eaters to arrive and kill anyone. Oh wait, the Death Eaters don't exist and the only threat out there is me."

Harry almost spat that out, and regretted it as part of him realized venting his spleen on those he was closet to wouldn't help a damn. Yet, Harry looked down, embarrassed at his outbreak, and left. Walking swiftly, Harry paced the deserted hallways of the school before making his way to the History of Magic classroom, where he knew his uncle would be working. Not bothering to knock, he opened to see Billy Fish, his uncle, Moody, and Figg sitting on desks having tea and sandwiches, and all were surprised to see him.   
  
"Anything wrong Harry?" Alex's magical swiveled towards him while he sipped a cup of tea.

"Nothing, sir. I just wanted to inform you I'll be going to the ball alone, and as such wish to work the crowd, plainclothes and all."

Mrs. Figg looked worried, but Alex beat her to it. "Are you sure of this? If you are having any difficulties finding a date, I can arrange for an escort of your choice from Meg's?" Harry was tempted for half a second, as it had been a long time since he had last had _that _itch truly scratched, but shook his head. "Nothing of the sort, sir. Just doing my duty." The last came out bitterly, and Harry quickly covered it by saying, "Good evening, sirs, ma'am." With that, Harry turned, opened the door, and left. 

Again, Harry dallied and spent the better part of an hour continuing to walk the hallways of the school. Mostly, it was spent emptying his mind, or rather trying to of the venomous rage that was seeping through his veins. It was so goddamn unfair that the rest of the school treated him as though he were a fucking leper. He hadn't wanted Cedric to truly die, he hadn't wanted to become famous, hadn't wanted to be the one to watch Diggory get hit by the killing curse and fall, dead before he hit the goddamn dirt. Harry damn well didn't want to be the one who resurrected Voldemort, and Harry hadn't wanted to be the one to bring back Diggory's lifeless fucking body with him. Perhaps if it would have been better for all concerned if he had been killed out there, and buried under a pile of shit…

These thoughts were interrupted as he made his way up and passed a female's lavatory, and heard two voices. One distinctly male, the other definitely a female one, and Harry stopped to listen carefully.

"Why did you call me here, Neville?"

"Honey, I have to tell you something before tomorrow."

"Oh, have you found another date, my dear?"

"No, no, you're the one for me, it's just that I…"

There was the sound of a heavy sigh, and Harry knew who was talking in a flash. Only one person he knew of had the kind of accent Katrina Snape had, and Harry could tell the accent for the man was from the west counties. Neville came from Lancashire, and had such an accent. Harry, while he had no real wish to eavesdrop, nevertheless stood his ground, and listened in the shadows. _I shouldn't be doing this, he's a good mate who saved your ass back in Wales!_

"What is it, Neville?"

"Your father, well, he knows about you and I. He took me aside after lunch today and told me he won't stand in the way…us. There is one condition though…"

"Which is?"

Neville sighed, and replied, "He said I am not to tell you in order for his promise to be held up. I have the sneaky suspicion though that the worst parts of me will be brought to light, and that…"

"You think I'll hate you for it."

Harry could tell that Katrina was speaking gently, softly.

"Yes, and that is why I want to tell you of the only two secrets I haven't told you. Two, that I want you to know of for I owe it to you."

Neville breathed deeply, "My two secrets are quite simple: I have killed people, three to be precise, to save a friend, and I…" 

"Go on, Neville."

"Before I met you, I enjoyed time with several prostitutes. My uncle felt I should become a man, and he had a friend of his arrange it for me in London. I was protected and everything, but…yes that is the most embarrassing secret I have."

Harry, and Neville too undoubtedly, were surprised by what happened next: Katrina laughed.

"Neville, this was before you met me. Do you think I truly care for what you did before that?"

There was silence as Harry supposed Neville was answering by nodding or shaking his head.

"Neville, listen, I love you, and nothing will change that. No matter what you have done before. The man I know, is right here, and I know you love me."

"Thank you, Kat. I love you too, ever since that day at King's Cross. When you were asking the muggle conductor where Platform Nine and three quarters was at, and didn't…"

Harry decided to leave then and there as he heard them laughing and generally talking pleasantly, the tension obviously broken and gone. Part of him was envious that Neville had found something to cherish (not to mention ashamed of himself for his eavesdropping on the two), but Harry was quite glad for him, and decided that he was going to help him out if Snape tried anything. 

Despite this though, Harry couldn't help but keep thinking of his conversation with Cho, and after he washed and went to bed that night (it was close to midnight by the time he finished his walk, and everyone had gone to bed, including his friends Ron and Hermione), the words still rang in his mind, and he could still feel the slap across his face.

_It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you_.


	17. Chapter XVII: Veritaserum Blues

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Chapter XVII: Veritaserum Blues 

_"So, tell me, Harry, you have a girl or two waiting for you?"_

_"I haven't any, else I wouldn't be here would I?"_

_Alice laughed, straddled him, and ran her hands through her hair. Harry raised a hand and embraced her as Alice moved slowly against him. Leaning forward he buried his face between her breasts, and started to move in tandem with her. Slowly, Harry could feel her heat, and hear her groaning, her voice crying out for him… _

Harry awoke with a start, aware that he wasn't in bed with Alice, that he had been dreaming, and that the Halloween Ball was less then a week away. And the unpleasant memories from the night before were all too real.

_Snap out of it, asshole. What's done is done, and nothing you can do will change it. All you have left is duty, duty to friends and what family you have left. So knock this moping shit off, put on your poker face, and carry on_.

Harry dragged himself out of bed (after looking around to make sure no one could see he was still excited after his dream), picked up a bathrobe and towel, and staggered off to the bathroom. There, he washed, and spent a deal of time beneath one of the showerheads, trying to empty his mind and generally relax as Harry knew he was as badly wound up now as he was those first couple days back during the summer. True, the training in Wales and back in London with his uncle had done wonders for his confidence and state of mind (odd as it had seemed, his brushes with death had actually made him control his nightmares, as he had learned the old soldier's primary lesson: if it bleeds, it can be killed and wasn't to be feared). Yet, the hostility of much of the school, coupled with how Cho had smashed him up, left him reeling emotionally.

Trying not to think of the previous evening, Harry finished washing, and walked down to the War Room for the morning briefing. Entering, he noticed the morning group was watching him intently as he approached the table and sat down.

Alex spoke first, handing Harry a small envelope, "Morning, Harry. I've welcome news for you. We received a letter from Sirius and Remus. Apparently they have finished their mission and are returning to England. They should be able to see you in a couple more weeks." Harry brightened as he took the envelope and ripped it open. It read: _Dear Harry, Allow Moony and I to say well done in getting that position as Student Head of Hogwarts Security. Now, I know you haven't seen us in a while, and since I'm sure you're busy with your post and getting ready for the school ball (with a very pretty young woman, no doubt), why don't you come by the Hog's Head tavern on November 1, around eight o'clock. Moony will be there wearing a blue-black cloak, and a hat with an ostrich feather in his wizard cap. Contact will be established in that he will ask you if you have found an Albus Dumbledore card in any chocalate frogs lately. You will answer you have 'found more then you can count'. Memorize this phrase and burn the letter, and don't forget your tradecraft on your way to the meet. See you then, Harry, and have fun at the ball. Padfoot. _Harry felt himself relax somewhat as he knew his godfather and another of his father's friends were going to meet with him soon.

Alex, as Harry was reading, turned to Snape, who looked quite grave. "There was a small scale attack yesterday by several lower-ranking members of the Dark Lord's group. One muggle was dragged off of road, and…" Snape described a sadistic scene of torture and dismemberment before concluding, "After which, Voldemort used the Killing Curse to finish the muggle off." Moody asked, "Where did this event occur?" 

"Twenty miles from the Lithuanian border in Latvia. The Dark Lord has a great deal of followers and infrastructure established in the region."

"How did you go there?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"After we apparated to our meeting with him, we took a special portkey to a facility that has been set up in Latvia."

Harry asked a question that had been bothering him since he found out Katrina had been Snape's daughter. "Tell me, sir, is that why you had your daughter brought over here? Weren't you afraid that your associates would attempt to use her as leverage against you?"

Snape looked at Harry coolly (though with only a little malevolence present in previous years), and nodded, "Despite my…reputation, I genuinely give a damn for certain people. Since the eastern European countries are heavily into the dark arts, I decided over the summer she would be safer here at Hogwarts then at Grigorich. So I had my wife's sister Ms. Ramius bring herself and Katrina over here, where I can be sure the security is more…reliable. Also, I have made it clear to the members of the Inner Circle that Ada has raised my daughter to be quite unlike myself and my beliefs and that for public appearances, I am going along with it."

Snape grimaced, "I don't intend on my daughter to follow the same gory road that I have, or to suffer at the hands of the animals which I am forced to deal with." The tone of his voice indicated that the conversation was over.

Harry felt his respect for Snape rise somewhat. _Whatever else you can say about him, the cold bastard has balls of steel_, Harry thought to himself. It took a special sort of individual to play a game of double cross (Snape, as his way of 'penance' to get back into the Dark Lord's graces, pretended he was supplying the Dark Lord with information, when in fact the only information he was supplying was cleverly doctored information, or 'chickenfeed' in spy jargon, supplied by Moody and Alex. Harry also had the sneaky suspicion that Snape had had a personal hand in the demise of the late, unlamented Professor Karkaroff.), knowing that your enemy knew your one real weakness.

Looking at each of them, he asked, "Ma'am, I'm curious as to why the Headmaster and the Order hasn't gone public with news of Voldemort's return? Wouldn't it be better if we attempted to start warnings as soon…"

Figgs looked at him, "No it wouldn't. You have seen the way things are handled? The only reason Fudge hasn't made a move on Dumbledore is that he is afraid of the uproar it would cause since while there are enough people who believe in him for him to keep teaching and with little interference from Fudge, it isn't enough for us to start being more vocal then we currently are. Were we to attack Fudge in the Press, or via international means…"  
  
Shaking her head, Figgs continued, "Were we to do that, it would only ensure that Fudge would have an easier time putting the squeeze on us. Thus we have no choice but to operate in secret, and hope that what time we buy now will be enough since it is only a matter of when the Dark Lord strikes in a very major way."

Harry could only nod his head, and hope Dumbledore knew what the hell he was doing.

The rest of the briefing was the usual, as the only thing that occurred had been the Weasley twins detonating a series of dung-bombs outside Filch's office. Alex found the whole incident quite amusing, and asked, "Are you sure it was them?"

"Of course it was, who else do you think could have caused such mania? Their punishment shall be…"

"Detention with me for at least two weeks. No house points deducted."

After that, Harry said good day, and headed off for the Great Hall. Entering, he found that much of the school was awake and eating breakfast. Harry saw Ron, Hermione, Doc, and the twins at the Gryffindor table. Walking over, he saw that all of them were looking at him strangely. Filling a glass with orange juice, Harry sipped it and asked, "Well, a good morning to you all. What seems to be the problem?" 

Hermione looked at him incredulously, "Harry, are you all right? Ron and I were worried after you left and didn't return by the time we went to bed." Fred chipped in, "Ron and Hermione filled me, George, and Doc in on what happened. How ye feeling?"

Piling his plate with food, Harry took a bite out of an egg before replying, "Better then before." Looking down at his food, Harry began eating, hoping this would kill the conversation, as he could feel bits and pieces of adrenaline and anger in his blood, like a bottle of beer in which the dregs at the bottom had been stirred and mixed.  

Hermione wouldn't let it up however. "Harry, she had no right to…" 

"Hermione, just give it a rest. _Please_." Harry's tone sounded the way he felt: beaten down, and ground up.

Ron nudged Hermione quiet as Harry absently picked at his food, and asked the twins, "So, whom are you two bringing to the ball?"

Fred grinned. "Angelina for me, and Katie Bell for George."

 Harry smiled, and raised his goblet of juice in a mock toast, "Congratulations. What about you, Ron?" By now Harry's voice was sounding almost jovial, which was pure bullshit on his part. 

Ron seemed stumped, "I don't know yet." 

Hermione spoke, "I think I'll probably go alone, maybe keep you company Harry?" 

"No dice, Hermione. I'll be on duty, and that is the way it will go down. Sorry."

Harry's hope for a quick change of conversation was realized as Neville spilled a jug of milk on to the table. Looking over at him, Harry could see he was shaking like a leaf, worse then after the firefight in Wales. Getting up, Harry walked over and told Neville to follow him into the hallway as he helped him mop up the milk. Neville did so, and out in the hallway, Harry pressed on him his flask (filled this time with straight, Canadian whiskey) and asked him, "Right, what is Snape going to do to you?"

Neville choked and asked gasping, "What the… how did you…"

"Look, I overheard you and your…lady friend talking last night. Don't give me that look!" Neville was staring at him goggle-eyed and seemed to be mouthing something about eavesdropping. "With the way you two were talking, I'm surprised fucking Filch didn't can your ass. Now, what is that prick going to do to you."

Neville sighed, "If you heard that much, then you should have heard I can't tell a living damn soul about what I'm doing. SHIT!" Swearing, he turned and walked away, but Harry called out to him, "Listen, Nev. If you ever need my help, tap that rifle call Uncle Alex taught us. All right?" Neville nodded, and walked off. Harry watched him turn a corner, and left.

Harry hoped Neville knew what the hell he was doing, for today was probably going to be Neville's version of Harry's yesterday.

*          *          * 

History of Magic went by fast for Harry as he spent his time wondering what was going to happen in Potions, and as soon as the bell sounded, hurried off ahead of Ron and Hermione to the Potions classroom. Entering it, he saw that Neville had made it ahead of him (Neville had left about five minutes before the class ended, saying his stomach wasn't feeling too good, and Alex had sympathetically allowed him to go to the latrine and then to his next class) and was in a quiet conversation with Snape. Harry could tell Neville had the same look on his face the night around the bonfire, and was steeling himself for something approaching.

As soon as the rest of the class started entering the classroom, Neville returned to his seat next to Katrina, as Malfoy and the Slytherins entered the classroom. Ron and Herimione took their usual seats beside him. Hermione whispered, "What's wrong with Neville? He seems jumpy." Harry muttered under his breath, "Snape is going to test him on something. Apparently, it has something to do with the fact Katrina and Nev are an item."

Any further conversation was stopped as Snape got up and looked at his class, moving a chair in front of his desk. Conversation stopped as all eyes turned to him. Snape smiled coldly, " Some of you are no doubt wondering how badly you will fail when I would test you today on poison antidotes. No doubt, you are wondering if you should have paid more attention and not engaged in the stupidity which you are all monumentally blessed with." Looking around, "Let me just say this: today fortune, if not your brains, are with you. Today, we shall be examining the effects of truth potions. Specifically, the effects of Veritaserum." Snape held up a bottle containing a clear, thick liquid. While there were major sighs of relief in the class, Harry went cold as he realized what Snape was going to do. _You goddamn son of a bitch bastard…_Harry mentally raged.

Hermione raised a hand. "Yes, Ms. Granger?" 

"Sir, I thought it was against Ministry regulations for Veritaserum to be used on students."

"So it is. Which is why I have here," Snape held up a piece of parchment covered in writing. "A form that will be signed by the student who will be given the potion. The form states that this test is purely voluntary, and that student has given permission for Veritaserum to be used. Now, will Mr. Longbottom please step forward?" Neville got up and moved to the front of the classroom where Snape asked him. "Do you have any reservations to be part of this demonstration?"

"No, Sir." Harry could tell Neville was using every bit of steel and willpower in him to not lose control.

"Very well, do sign here, and then sit down." Neville did as he was told, and sat down on the chair. Snape folded the parchment and placed it in a pocket in his pocket, the removed an eyedropper. Using it, he filled it with clear Veritaserum from the bottle on his desk, and ordered Neville. "Open your mouth and sit back." Neville did so, and Snape carefully released three drops from the eyedropper into Neville's mouth. Snape then explained to the class, "Veritaserum is the strongest truth potion currently known to the wizard world. Maximum effective dosage is three droplets. Effects take approximately six seconds to take affect the subject, and last three hours unless an antidote is administered. The antidote is your standard poison antidote involving bezoar stones and dragon liver."

Snape pointed out the physical signs of Veritaserum usage, then removed four quills and passed them out to Malfoy, Bulstrode, Dean, and Hermione. He began, "Now, this shall demonstrate to you the full effectiveness of this potion. Will Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Bulstrode, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Thomas please use the dictation quills I have provided to record the following demonstration." Snape turned to Neville. 

"State your full name, year, and house."

"Neville Francis Longbottom, Fifth Year, Gryffindor."

"Now, tell us Mr. Longbottom two nicknames you have had during your 'illustrious' school career."

"Gryffindor Klutz, and the Moron."

The Slytherins laughed, and Harry looked on as Neville, sitting with a detached look on his face stared into the distance. Harry looked at Neville's eyes, and knew that he was suffering with worry over what Snape was going to ask next, and hoping he would show some mercy.

Snape, however, must not have known the meaning of the word as, after ten minutes going over various disasters in school, he started on the line of questioning Harry and Neville had been dreading, and the Slytherins were waiting for.

"Tell me, Mr. Longbottom, do you know what sexual intercourse is. Also known as: shagging, sex, screwing, fucking, etc.?"

"Yes"

"What is your preference, young man: girls, other boys, animals, corpses perhaps?"

"Just women"

The Slytherins of the class were laughing, and even the Gryffindors were looking on in curiosity. Neville's face was still expressionless, but Harry could tell by his eyes this was paining him to have his innermost secrets brought forth and exposed for the world to see. Especially in front of a girl he obviously was trying not to disappoint. Turning his head, Harry watched Katrina, and saw in her face compassion and understanding to Neville, as well as pain for what he was going through. This only stoked his rage against Snape, even as he realized what Snape was doing. 

Snape was doing the obvious thing a father should do: protecting his daughter by interrogating any boy that came close to her. Yet… 

_This shit is overkill, but I can't do anything without the signal from Neville_, Harry fumed inwardly.

Snape was continuing his interrogation.

"Have you ever masturbated?"

"Yes"

"Have you ever been intimate, i.e. had intercourse, i.e. shagged or slept with, a woman or girl?"

"Yes"

"How many?"

"Eight"

There was a note of surprise throughout the classroom, with Malfoy actually exclaiming, "He can't possibly be telling the truth!" Snape ignored this and continued. "Indeed…tell us their names and occupations."

Harry could tell Neville was uncomfortable with this as he named eight of the ten girls at Meg's. Snape appeared to ask another question before Malfoy jumped, "Describe to us your first time with one of the women you mentioned. And how much you had to pay." He was leering.

Neville spoke in his Veritaserum induced, emotionless voice. "My first time was after I returned from a trip to Wales with a friend of my Uncles. She was an Irish girl named Deirdre, and cost one hundred galleons…" From there, he described every moment he had spent with his woman that time he had gone with Duds, Harry and Alex to the brick house in Soho. It looked as though he was going to die then and there as he described every single detail of the coupling. Snape, in a change Harry noticed, glowered at Malfoy almost as malevolently as he had once glared at Harry.

Harry then heard it as Neville finished his tale (to the laughter of the Slytherins), the signal he had been waiting for. _Tat Tat Rat-Tat-Tat_. Neville was sounding retreat, using his knuckles on the side of the chair he was sitting on. 

Steeling his face, Harry slowly rose as Neville concluded, "After we finished, we lay in bed as she let me explore her body with my fingertips." Harry looked over at Snape, and spoke, "Sir, as part of the collection of tools given to me as Head of Security, I will ask my classmate precisely ten questions. Will that be a problem?"

Snape looked at him, silently asking _What are you playing at, Potter_, but questioned the way it was, Snape had no choice but to nod. Harry turned to Neville as soon as Snape nodded and asked, "Tell me Neville, besides having the sexual appetite of an older man, have you ever done anything else which you have kept to yourself?"

"I killed three men in Wales."

The class gasped, and Snape looked wide-eyed at Neville. Harry ignored them, and continued, "Describe the circumstances of your killing those three men."

"We were to set a vehicular ambush against a group of muggle, Irish terrorists. One of us, a friend of mine, volunteered to be a decoy, and pretend to be wounded to stop the convoy. He did so, but only at the expense of himself, for it appeared he was going to be tortured and murdered in the middle of the road. My friend started the ambush when he jabbed his torturer in the eye with a pencil he had kept in his sleeve. After that, everyone opened fire with the muggle weapons we were equipped with. I fired six shots, and hit two targets, killing one with three rounds. The other man went down and was riddled with gunfire from other weapons besides my own. As soon as the second man went down, I leapt over the hedge, and ran to my friend, and tossed him his weapon."

Neville continued speaking, going on as the men of second platoon killed the terrorists until only two had made it into the woods, during which Neville killed one as he ran to the woods. Then he spoke of the hunt within the woods.

"We spread out, hunting the stragglers. The vegetation was thick and we got separated. Duds and I stalked up behind a man, and as he turned we saw he was a friend of ours who almost shot us. He lowered his rifle, yet as he was doing so the two whom we were looking for started to rise. My friend threw himself to the ground as he must have heard or sensed something behind him. Duds and I opened fire. I know I killed one for I aimed at the head of one, and watched the head disintegrate as a round hit it. My friend was saved, and since the other terrorist was still alive, we took him prisoner."

"The name of your friend, Neville?"

"Harry Potter"

The silence within the room was stifling, so Harry continued. "Explain to us what happened on Hogwarts Express on its trip here."

"I was talking with Katrina Snape when Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and two second years made their way into the cabin. Malfoy somehow knew that Katrina was from Grigorich, and proceeded to make advances shy of rape against her. When I informed him to stop, he ordered his goons to restrain me, whereupon I kicked one of them…"

Neville described the fight that followed, and how Harry and Doc had helped him out. As soon as he finished, Harry asked, "So, tell me…You knew full well that you were going to get beaten, that the odds weren't in your favor. Why did you not only fight, but attack them first?"

"Katrina was a woman in need of help, and there was no way I could allow those people to do what they wanted to do to her. Also, even though, I had met her only an hour earlier, I…I…" Even with the Veritaserum, Neville was obviously uncomfortable saying what he was going to say next. Harry couldn't blame him, as the entire class was riveted on every word he was speaking. Snape was watching Neville, one finger rapping against his upper lip.

Neville finally got out his answer, "Ever since that moment at the train station, I have been in love with her."

The class seemed to break out in chaos, but Harry stopped it as he slammed a palm against Snape's table, and waited for the class to shut up. Quietly, Harry asked his friend, "Are you sure of this?"

"Yes, for I know merely wanting a woman after that time at Meg's over the summer. This is different, as I think of her every moment of my life, and I enjoy nothing more then to be in her company."

"Would you lay down your life for this girl?"

"Gladly, and with a smile on my face."

Harry paced in front of Neville, then turned to look him in the face. "You have whored, and now love a very nice girl. What do you suppose your parent's would say about all of this?"

"I don't know, they were lost to me when I was barely a year old."

"How?"

"They were driven insane when they were tortured under the Cruciatus curse by the Lestranges, young Crouch, and other Death Eaters after the initial demise of the Dark Lord."

A moment earlier there had been noise of chaos, now there was only dead silence. Harry decided to finish things now.

"Neville, do you regret, now, having had anything to do with Katrina? Do you still care for her in other words?"

"I will always love and care for her, and would go through every painful moment in my life again for her…And also for my friends."

Harry said, "Thank you, Neville for your time. And for my life."

Turned to Snape, and nodded. Snape, his face expressionless, removed a vial of black liquid and gave it to Neville. "Drink," he commanded.

Neville drank the potion, and the dozing look that had been on his face as he was under the truth serum vanished to be replaced with a look of shock, and nausea. Snape asked, "If you need to, you are excused to go to the bathroom or Madame Pomfrey." Neville nodded, and staggered out of the classroom. Katrina, who had looked on in horror as she heard what had happened to the boy who loved her, packed her bag, picked up Neville's and walked out, staring at her father briefly. Snape looked back, and nodded at her, pointing to the door. 

With that, she left and as she did so, Snape drew his wand, pointed it at Malfoy's parchment, and spoke, "_Incindio_" The parchment burst into flames briefly, and was reduced to a pile of ash. In short order, the other three were destroyed as well, and it was then the bell rang. Snape dismissed them, warning them that they would suffer unspeakable consequences if it became known to him that they were using the information Neville had divulged against Neville.

Harry walked with Hermione and Ron out of the classroom, hoping he had done the right thing as he felt as though he had been pulling the wings off a fly when he had joined in the interrogation. Hermione asked him, "Harry, don't you think we should report this to…"

"No, and I don't think Neville would want us to either."

"Why?"

"Trust me, right now the last thing on his mind is for this to get any worse then it already is."

Hermione seemed subdued, and then said, "I still say we should go and help him out."

Ron answered that one, "You see the way Katrina burst out of the classroom? Nah, Neville's got all the company he needs. Pity I don't have a girl like that to take to the Halloween ball…" He said the last quite mournfully, as though it were beyond him as to why that was so.

Hermione took offense at this and yelled at him, "Well, maybe if you weren't such a blind, jealous fool, maybe someone would take you." With that, she stormed off as Ron was still working up a response. He finally gave up and kept walking. Harry suddenly had an idea, one that had been itching at him since the start of the school year.

"Ron, you ever thought of asking Hermione out? You do like her, don't you?"

Ron looked at him, and then away. Harry could tell he was starting to flush. "Yeah, it's just that…Bloody hell! I don't know what to do."

Harry smiled, and told him as they turned a corner on their way to lunch, "It's quite simple Ron: make a pass at her. Go and chase her down, apologize and let your real feelings become known to her."

Ron squirmed, "But…with the way I've been treating her, and always fighting her and…" Harry, feeling exasperated, grabbed Ron by the shoulder and slammed him against the wall. Holding him there, Harry hissed at him, "Don't be so goddamn stupid, Ron! You have feelings for her right?" Ron nodded and Harry continued. 

"Then for Heaven's sake make them known to her! Christ! With the way you two have been bickering since I've known you, both of you might as well be carrying around a big sign saying you are a couple!"

Looking at Ron in the eye, Harry decided to share a little something he had been thinking a great deal of the since the previous evening. "Ron, if you love or even like a girl even a little, then don't bottle it up. Make a go at her. Even if she does, on the really long goddamn chance, turn you down, you will at least know that you made a go at it. You want to know why you shouldn't delay? If you delay and delay, and try to rationalize some things, then the initiative,  moment will be lost, and I know it is lost forever based on some pretty goddamn painful fucking experience."

Breathing hard, Harry pulled his hand away and turned. He spoke one last time, "Ron, as a friend, I'm telling you, don't lose the moment, and go after your girl, for if you keep losing the moment, there will come a time when that moment will be your last, and if you don't take, any chance you may have had will be lost for fucking ever, and you'll be regretting it for a long goddamn time." With that, Harry walked away and headed for the Great Hall.

Ron didn't follow him, and Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table where he took a seat next to Doc, who was talking with Ginny and Colin with a large package between Doc and the couple. Harry politely nodded greetings to them and sat down to eat. "Hey Harry, come here and look at my costume!" Doc exclaimed, pointing. Harry looked over to see that the package contained a 1940s era American uniform, with Ike jacket, khaki shirt, khaki tie, khaki trousers, side cap, brown socks and oxford laceups. Looking at the belt buckle, Harry smiled and asked, " I take it your grandfather was a Manchu, eh?" Doc smiled, "How did you know it was my grandfather? And to answer your question…Keep Up the Fire!" Doc barked out the unit motto for the Ninth United States Infantry Regiment. Harry explained, "I knew it was your grandfather because that is a Second Infantry Division 'Indianhead' patch on the right shoulder, and the last time that unit saw action was in the 1950s during the Korean War. Since it there is a One-Oh-One Airborne Division patch on the left, the unit he was last assigned to, and that unit last saw service in the Persian Gulf War. Also, two of those ribbons indicate service in the European theater during World War Two, and another is the Korean War ribbon. Judging by your age, I don't think your father served in Korea. Now, as for the what regiment I can recognize the dragon insignia with the nine in the middle anywhere since one of the men in my uncle's unit in Wales was a Yank who served in the Ninth from 79-80 in Korea."

Doc grinned, "Probably knew my dad then. He was in that unit when my dad's friend Uncle Kyung was a Korean attached to the US Army, they're called KATUSAs by the way, and introduced him to my ma."

Colin looked at him, "You're part Korean?" Doc, smiling, spoke, "Guray? Thul-ba?" Seeing their expressions, he explained, "That is Korean for 'Yeah, got a problem with that?' I know I don't look like it, my father's blood is real strong in me, but I was born in Korea and much of my life before I went to the New Orleans Academy was going to schools on US bases in the states and in Korea."

He spent the next few minutes regaling them with tales of life growing up in Korea, and then Harry asked Colin and Ginny, "So what will you two be dressed up as? I know it's going to be keeping with the 1940s theme." It had been decided by Ms. Ramius (who was organizing the first of the three school events) to have a 1940s theme, and suddenly the school was alive with people trying on seersucker suit, and fedoras, and old muggle military uniforms. Harry was rather grateful as this ensured he could just throw on the suit and hat his uncle had got for him, and not have to worry about looking out-of-place as he really hadn't the heart to try and make a grand costume.

Ginny smiled, "I got this green dress my grandmother wore back then, and I had my mom tailor it for me for just this occasion." Colin smiled, "A lot like Doc's actually, mine is British whilst his is Yank." "American, you limey, as we in Louisiana take umbrage at being called Yankee," Doc shot back, smiling. Ginny looked at Harry, and asked smiling, "So, whom are you going with? Cho?" Harry cocked his head, and looked at her quizzically. _Thought she already knew…_, he thought to himself, and answered, "No, not with Cho… I got the duty of going it alone whilst I have the duty." Harry pointed at the badge. Ginny's smile disappeared, and she asked, "But Harry, I thought she wasn't going with anyone since…" Harry quietly explained to her and those at the table what had happened, and judging by the looks on their faces they were outraged, but they were saved from further response by Doc, who glanced towards the door, and then looked back again as quickly. Doc nudged to Harry and pointed to the door. Harry looked over to the door, and saw Ron, shy and flushing a bit, with his hand entwined with Hermione's, who also looked the same way. Smiling, Harry got up and picked up an empty goblet. Removing his flask, he charged it with about a bit of whiskey, and looked over at Ginny and Colin, "Look who's coming down the hallway."

It seemed that just as Harry said that the rest of the student body must have realized that as Harry could here from the Slytherin table, "Look, it's that Granger girl and some Weasley." Nothing bothered the couple as they came up and sat down next to Harry. Grinning, Harry raised his goblet, and looked at Ron, "I take it she said yes, eh Ron?" Ron seemed to turn as red as his hair, and as he nodded, he said, "Thanks for the advice, Harry." Hermione looked at Harry, and also said, "Thank you, Harry." With that, she turned, and promptly kissed Ron on the forehead. This was greeted with cheers and clapping from Ron's brothers, who were sitting and chatting up their dates Katie and Angelina for the ball.

Harry, feeling glad he had done something right for once and brought some happiness to his friends, raised his goblet in salute, and drank down the fiery alcohol.


	18. Chapter XVIII: The Halloween Ball

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Also, special thanks to those who have explained to me how to submit a review. I'm sorry for the time it took for this latest installment to be written and posted, but I hope the quality will more then make up for it. To you people who have been waiting for a H/G moment, this is the chapter you probably have been waiting for, and let me just say that it was these past three chapters that were the hardest to write, and required an ungodly amount of polishing to make close to adequate. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning: Sexual situation (not H/G), _very_ crude humor present, some alcohol and tobacco usage (this last is rather belated I suppose). Viewer discretion advised. In other words, if you're not 17, leave immediately.

Chapter XVIII: The Halloween Ball 

The next several days went by incredibly fast as everyone had their attention on the Ball, the students from the class actually following Snape's directions and keeping their mouths shut. Ron and Hermione were spending as much of their time together, and Harry gave them a wide berth, as he didn't want to be the third wheel in their couple, despite the fact the two of them told them nothing was changing. Harry felt that having set them up was one of the brighter things he had done. Instead, Harry spent more of his time with Bladvak, Ironhammer, and the faculty making sure the possibility of a Death Eater attack on Halloween could be dealt with should it come to pass.

Halloween day was on a Monday, so the ball was held on the Saturday before it, and Harry spent the morning helping Ron and several other wizards in Gryffindor house who were wearing uniforms (Ron was going dressed as a major in the Gloucester Regiment) put it on right. Ron had asked Harry, "Why are you wearing your suit, Harry? I thought you'd be wanting to get fancied up as a soldier, too after your bit in Wales." Harry had shrugged, " Didn't feel like bothering my uncle to have his Linda, his housekeeper, send me the No.2 Dress uniform I left back at his house in Little Whinging." That wasn't the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but, but Harry was fortunate in that Ron didn't press it.

The afternoon Harry spent cleaning and preparing his weapons. First, he had taken a whetstone and oil and sharpened and polished his Fairbairn dagger, and polished and pulled maintenance on his wand. Then he field stripped his Browning Hi-Power (this was where only the critical parts of a weapon are disassembled for cleaning and can be done quickly, and didn't use tools for the disassembly like screwdrivers) and proceeded to clean and oil it, finishing by spraying WD-40 down the barrel and into the slide action to ensure it worked as smoothly as possible. He then disassembled his all four of the magazines (one twenty round, the other the standard thirteen round magazines) and cleaned them as well, making sure the spring still worked, as it should. As he finished, Harry pulled out two boxes of ammunition and debated what his ammo load should be. Since, if he had to use it, be shooting in a room full of people (some of whom he wasn't to shoot) Harry decided to load the three standard magazines with Hydra-shock hollow-points while loading the twenty round magazine with standard ball ammunition. The difference was principally one of penetration, as the ball rounds had metal tips that were designed for range and penetration, while the hollow-points (since the actual bullet was a Teflon coated bit of lead designed to expand and mushroom to roughly the size of a small coin) were used to penetrate the body (indeed cause greater injury to the person than a normal round), but not enough to exit it, making it well liked by hostage rescue units the world over. One hollow point round for Harry's Browning, in other words, had the stopping power of an American Colt .45, one of the more powerful handguns in the world.

Harry picked up one of the magazines and slowly started to thumb rounds into it. Quickly, Harry loaded three of them with hollow-points, and the twenty with ball. With this task completed, Harry was began cleaning up, throwing his cleaning material back into it's kit, and neatly placing it and the boxes of ammo back into the case. The weapons and ammo Harry placed in one of the trays he had in his trunk, as he planned on putting them on once he completed his wash. Yet, just as he was about to leave, Harry noticed one round had fallen of the table he had been using.

Not wanting to waste it, Harry picked it up and was about to put it back in with the rest of his kit when he took a moment to examine it. Holding it between his thumb and middle finger, Harry looked at the round, squat shape of it. As he spun it around slowly, Harry noticed his pistol in its clip-on belt holster, unloaded. Harry fantasized on what it would be like to shoot himself. It was all so easy…Pull the slide back, and insert the round into the chamber, and ride the slide forward, pull the hammer back, flick the safety off, and then it was a matter of …

_Snap the fuck out of it, fuckhead!_ Harry raged. Angrily, he threw the round he held in his hand on to the tray in his trunk, and slammed the cover down. 

I am not going to kill myself over a stupid fucking crush! Not until I have the pleasure of burying that cocksucker Malfoy.

With that thought on his mind, Harry grabbed his shower kit, and towel and stormed off to the shower.

                        *          *          *

An hour later, Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room waiting for his friends to hurry up and come down the stairs. He was doing this because he had a sneaking suspicion that Ron was going to need some more support. Sitting at one of the tables, Harry fiddled with his pocket watch, and then placed it back into his vest pocket. Glancing into a mirror, Harry had to admit his uncle had good taste in wardrobe selection. Harry had on a black suit, vest, necktie, white button-down shirt, and had black socks to go with his oxford lace-ups. His hair was still relatively short and not standing up, thank god. At his elbow was his black fedora. Running a hand through his damp black hair, Harry unconscientiously felt the weight of his arsenal. On his left hip, attached to his belt, was a small holster plainclothes cops wore with the Browning in it. In a smaller holster next to it were two of the magazines. Harry kept the twenty in his right trousers pocket, with his telescoping baton and wallet. The left-side pocket held Harry's wand, and he had his Fairbairn strapped in its usual spot on his left forearm, ready so that with a flick of his wrist the hilt would slide into his palm.

Harry felt he was ready for anything, and using his Auror's comm. set listened to the goblin and dwarf units send in their situation reports. Everything seemed to be going like clockwork, but Harry had a feeling something was going to happen. That, or he was going to be pretty miserable as the student body took their usual licks against him. It was for that he had packed away a small case of cigars and book of matches in the inside coat pocket of his. No liquor, though, as Harry wanted to be in complete control of his faculties if it became necessary. Nicotine on the other hand…

Doc, in his American uniform, came down the stairs first, looking for the entire world like a young infantryman about to hit the town. Harry grinned and asked, "Going to hit the ville tonight?" 

Doc laughed, "Nah, the villes here are too damn expensive, and even my home country has been attacked by morals lately. Why my dad was telling me how back in his day anything, and I do mean that, could be had for fifty bucks or less."

"Then I'll drink to loose morals, cheap booze, and loose and cheap pros without the clap or anything else."

"Amen to that."

Ron and Neville came down next, Ron resplendent in the dark brown and khakis of the British World War II Army officer (Major, one gold and red emblem in the shape of a crown), with the peaked cap perched rakishly on his redhead. Neville must have gotten help from Uncle Dick as he wore the insignia of a captain (three diamonds, or pips) on his shoulder boards, and the older silver crest of the Parachute Regiment. Greeting them, Harry complimented them on their uniforms when Seamus Finnegan came down the stairs. Harry sucked in a breath as he saw the uniform of green-gray material, with its Sam Browne belt and peaked cap. It was the uniform that Michael Collins had worn when the Irish Republic gained dominion status in the 1920s, the same uniform the Irish Republican Army wore.

Harry couldn't say he was comfortable around the uniform of the same people (or their descendants anyhow) who had damn near killed his uncle, and almost gutted and feed him his nuts for breakfast literally.

Restraining himself, Harry grinned and joked with Seamus, "Nice outfit, man. Wrong war don't you think?"

Seamus smirked, "Nah, my countrymen wore this outfit when we were neutral in War II. Sides, it wasn't as though they were murderous scum like that lot." He pointed to Neville, who gave a bemused frown, shrugged, and seemed to be thinking _Fucking nutter_. Seamus seemed to want to bring the issue out every chance he got as he turned to Harry, "What do you think, Harry?" 

"You're making a bad choice asking a guy who was damn near gutted by one of those fucking terrorists."

"Patriot freedom fighters you mean?"

"One man's freedom fighter is another's terrorist. And vice versa."

This was Doc, who stepped forward menacingly. "Look, Finnegan, I know what you and you Irish have against the Brit paratroopers. Know what you're going to do?" Finnegan started to stare at Doc icily, who went on unabashed, "You're going to shut up about shit that is beyond us, and have a good time with your date. Laugh with her, talk with her, dance with her, stick a finger in her if you get the chance, but you _will_ keep your goddamn opinions to yourself. Okay?" Doc and Seamus stared at each other for the next several seconds, both sides not backing down until Seamus blinked and said, "All right, your right, this is a magical world and not one dealing with…" 

Harry decided that this was enough politics for one night and asked Seamus, "Who's your date? Same with Dean."

"Lavender Brown. Dean's taking your old woman, Parvati."

Dean came down the steps, dressed in the uniform of a Sergeant in the King's African Rifles, followed shortly by Colin Creevey. They were chatting away when Ron, obviously impatient, decided to go up to Hermione's room and started going up the stairs to the girl's dorms. It was when what sounded like a klaxon began wailing in the air and the stairs gave way to a slide, sending him sliding back downstairs to land unceremoniously on his ass. Harry suddenly remembered Mrs. Figg telling him the sliding stairs had been one of the earliest security measures put in place by the Founders. Everyone was laughing and then stopped as the ladies, laughing also at what happened to Ron, came down the stairs. All of them had on skirts and blouses or dresses fashionable in the 1940s. Ginny and Hermione had matching cut dresses, though where Hermione had chosen a soft powdery blue, Ginny had chosen a blue-green shade called organdy. Harry couldn't help but notice it brought out the fire of her hair. Colin went up to greet his Ginny, as Hermione came up to Ron and scolded him jokingly, "Now dear, you really should close your mouth. This isn't the first time you've seen me fancied up." Ron choked out, "You're beautiful." Neville seemed quite entranced with the black dress Katrina had on as the shock of the interrogation by Snape had worn away over the days.

Harry could only smile as Hermione laughed and told them how her grandmother, as well as those of Dean and Seamus, had been helping out via owl post. Looking over he complimented Hermione and turned to Colin, who had an arm around the waist of Ginny. "Colin, you have my compliments in getting a very beautiful woman. And Ginny, that dress really suits you." Colin grinned sheepishly as Ginny started turning red as her hair, though she smiled back at him.

Hermione then asked Colin to take a picture of her and Ron, followed by a group picture of everyone. Colin, after he took them, had Harry take a picture of him and Ginny, then Harry and Hermione, as well as a single of Doc, who said he wanted to send a pic to Grandpa Detibedeux back in the Louisiana bayous. As they finished this last one, Harry acted on an impulse and called out to Ginny, "Hey Ginny, how about one of you and me?" Ginny, still smiling, and looked at Colin, "How about it, Colin?" "I'm game if you are, Gins."

She laughed, and Harry slid his arm around her waist as she put one of hers around his. Harry was felt the softness of her waist, and marveled at the way it curved. Breathing, Harry could smell the scent of the soap and shampoo Ginny used, the scent of rose and peaches. It was quite a pleasant smell and Harry had to force himself to smile and break away, reminding himself he never stole women away from people he knew.

Together, the men of Gryffindor house and their dates began going to the Great Hall when Parvati asked Doc, "So where is this date of yours?" Doc gave a mysterious smile, which only Harry knew the meaning of and told them, "She told me to meet her by that bathroom on the second floor. You know, the one that's haunted."

After a minute, they reached the bathroom and Lavender asked curiously, "Where is she, Doc?"

Doc grinned, "Must be powdering her nose, or whatever you ladies do in the little girl's room." Cautiously, he opened the door, and asked into the room, "Are you ready, Honey?"

"In a minute."

Ginny and Hermione looked at Harry, and Hermione asked, "Harry isn't that…" Moaning Myrtle made her entrance by coming through one of the doors, and said to her date, "Hello, Doc." Doc smiled and said, "Hello, dear. Are you ready?" 

Everyone besides Doc and Harry seemed astonished, though it was Ginny and Hermione who got their nerves straight first, greeting Myrtle like any other girl. Myrtle, dressed in a 1940s era dress (she had died in 1942) with what looked like a silver trimmed black hat, gave her tinkling laugh, and replied, "Indeed I am, and thank you Doc for being the first boy to take me to one these things."

"Then may you have another thousand after this, and thank you for the privilege for accompanying me to this ball."

Myrtle laughed again, and gave Doc a kiss of sorts on the cheek, apparently taking efforts not to go through him. She then turned to Harry, and kissed him on the cheek as well. It felt to Harry as though someone took a damp cloth and gently brushed it against his cheek. 

"Thank you for everything, Harry."

"Don't mention it, Myrtle. I owed you one."

Together, the group went down the stairs to the Great Hall. Harry and his friend cut quite a sight, with Ron, Neville, Doc, Dean, and Seamus in military uniforms, with their dates in dresses outfits not seen in a few decades; Harry was the only one in civilian clothes, a young secret agent with his jacket, tie, vest, glasses frames, belt, socks, shoes, and hat in black. The only thing not black was the silver of his watch, and the steel and iron of the bracelet and ring that was the Auror's communication set. Harry also privately thought he looked a hell of a lot like a younger version this American CIA agent he had read about in one of the books uncle Alex had had him read, the man being the CIA's paranoid spy-catcher of the 1960s James J. (Jesus, as in Jesus Christ) Angleton. Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing, looking like Mad-Eye's Muggle equivalent, or what.

As they reached the doors, attention was drawn to the fact by everyone that Doc had on his arm one very pretty ghost (Myrtle had gotten rid of the tears and pimples, and once she had a smile on her, looked quite nice). Harry excused himself and went into the Great Hall as the procedure had been for the Head Boy and Girl with their dates, followed by the House Prefects, and then the students to enter the Great Hall, with everyone lining up before hand. With his badge, Harry got in and looked around, searching for his uncle, or anyone else to report to. Taking his time, Harry saw that besides the usual floating Jack-o-lantern's; the place was decked out in with tasteful shades of black and orange. Instead of the usual four tables and the head table, the head table was still there, but the four tables had been moved for tables that held up to twelve people, as well as space for a dance floor in front of the head table. The entry way through the great doors was under an archway of some type of green and black intertwining vines that Harry moved through looking for someone, anyone he knew was in a position of authority.

Harry spotted Figg, Moody, Fish, and Alex at one of the smaller tables near the staff table, and headed over to them. Moody was dressed in a gray suit and vest, with a black bowler pulled low over his magical eye. Fish had on a green Gurkha uniform of the Seventh Duke of Edinburgh's Own Gurkha Rifles, quite like the one his namesake had worn as he was being hacked apart in the movie _The Man Would Be King, _with three chevrons (points down) of Sergeant_;_ the only medals on his chest were campaign medals for the Falklands, the Persian Gulf, and the Generals Service Medal. Madame Figg had on a blouse and skirt that ended at her ankles of navy blue, and seemed all business. Uncle Alex, like Billy Fish, was in uniform, though his was a standard No.2 Dress Uniform, though his facings were green, and his leatherwork was black instead of brown, with the three pips of captain in black metal. Alex's regiment was the Royal Green Jackets, the regiment of Harry Smith, Rifleman Plunkett, and Sharpe and Harper, and they had to set themselves apart from the other regiments.

His chest was also a good example of just how stingy the British were in regards to medals and awards. Uncle Alex had seen service in Northern Ireland, the Falklands, and the Persian Gulf over ten-year career, with at least three wounds. Harry wasn't sure if he had done anything brave, for his uncle had never told him, but he figured there had to be a reason why he was called the Flash. Alex had on his chest precisely four medals: the first two being campaign medals, much like Fish's, for service in the Falklands and the Persian Gulf War. The third medal was known as the General Service Medal, and a clasp was awarded to people who had fought in any of the UK's little wars and major expeditions overseas that didn't warrant a campaign medal. Alex's had the simple medal clasp with the notation on it of NORTHERN IRELAND. His fourth was one of the few issued by the Commonwealth nations for acts of valor, and that was the Military Medal. Which meant he had won it in the Falklands when he was an enlisted man for the MM was awarded to enlisted men while the Military Cross (MC) was awarded to officers. 

Walking up, he reported to his uncle, "Sir, I'm ready for duty. My orders, sir?"

Alex waved him off, "Relax, Harry. Just work the crowd and keep a low profile, as all you'll be handling will be security within the building. Bladvak and Ironhammer have the whole area within a half-mile beyond the school shield sealed off like an Orangeman's drum." The school shield Alex was referring to was an intricate system of charms and magical barriers that made the school Unplottable, and prohibited travel via Apparition. 

Harry nodded, and his uncle continued, "Another thing, have you kept in contact with Alice?" Harry wondered whom he was talking about before he remembered and shook his head. "No sir not since I left for the Weasley's. May I ask why you ask?"

Alex appeared thoughtful, and answered him, "I'm asking because I got a letter in from Meg, after I asked if she could send Alice up her to be your escort for the evening, and she told me Alice disappeared after she went to a client a few weeks back. I'm curious since you and her seemed to be friends."

Harry was worried, as he had had a few dreams of her lately, and pleasant as they were this was disquieting that she had vanished. While he had paid for her services, and she had taught him much during his three weeks staying with his uncle, Harry had become friends with Alice, who had been a loner amongst the girls of Meg's. Yet any questions he might have had he pushed back into his brain as the ceremonies started.

_She probably took off, made a run for it after I talked with her so much of bettering herself in a way besides whoring._ Harry thought to himself as he went over to a table and stood next to one of the chairs. Any further thoughts were driven from his mind as the opening ceremonies began.

The faculty came took their seats first, with Harry's uncle taking his place in the History of Magic spot. Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Flitwick came in wearing suits without neckties, and both had their Orders of Merlin pinned to their jackets. With their gray and white beards and glasses, they looked like a pair of grizzled veterans Harry had watched as a young boy on Remembrance Day, and in way, Harry had to admit, they were. Professor McGonagall wore a soft beige colored dress and a tan lady's hat trimmed in fox fur, while Snape was all business, all dressed in black suit that made him look like a clean-shaven version of the villain one saw in old movies (the one where the villain takes a woman and ties her to a set of train tracks). 

The band, a group of young looking wizards, took their places on stage as the students started entering. The Head Girl had on her arm some seventh-year Slytherin, while Lee had the beautiful Katie Bell on his arm. 

Following them were the school prefects: Dean with Parvati, Hermione with Ron. Then came the Prefects of Hufflepuff House: Ernie Macmillan (one of the few who, if he wasn't treating him friendly, then at least was treating him with politeness, which was an eyesore better then the rest of his classmates) with his date Hannah Abbot, and then came Justin Finch-Fletchey, who was the date of the Hufflepuff Female Prefect. Harry wondered why the females and Finch-Fletchley were smirking at him cruelly; though he had a pretty good idea what it was since next came the Prefects of Ravenclaw house. In walked in Michael Corner and his date (another Slytherin, this time a female one), and in came Cho Chang with…

_WHAT THE FUCK!!!_ Harry though as he felt his mind go numb. His hands started to tremor slightly before he forced himself to grab the tablecloth. Cho was looking marvelous in a dress of silvery, grayish blue, with her date looking resplendent in a gray suit. Her date was what shocked him, for it was Draco Malfoy, who turned his blonde head towards him and smirked cruelly. 

Harry wasn't sure if he was angry, disappointed, or what. Before the ball, Harry knew he was going to have the wound from Cho un-scabbed since he knew she was going with someone, and since she had turned him down that leveled the playing field. With her going with Malfoy, it was as though someone had ripped the scab off the wound, enlarged it tenfold, and tossed on some salt and vinegar for good measure. Nonetheless, Harry forced himself to keep his face emotionless, and to relax his hands as he saw Pansy Parkinson enter with her arm around that of some Slytherin called Avery. Harry forced himself to think things through: here was another enemy, and the fuckers were playing mind-games with him. 

_Don't let the motherfucker and his broad think they are getting to you_. _Maybe Cho had only gone with him because the rest of her house pressured her. Or something…GODDAMNIT!!!_

Harry thought these as he watched his friends enter through the vines, along with the rest of the student body. Even though he watched, the images falling into his head were empty and it wasn't until he heard Hermione calling to him that he was brought back to the real world. "Harry, are you all right?" Hermione had concern in her voice. Shaking his head, Harry looked over at her, for she and Ron had joined him at the table Harry was standing at. "Yeah, just that bit with Malfoy caught me by a bit of a surprise. Now, I wonder if eating here is the same as last year."

Harry had a smile on his face, and was desperately trying to sound cheerful. It must have worked for his friends didn't bring up the fact the girl he had been mooning over the past couple of years was on the arm of his enemy.

                        *          *          *

After dinner, which had been like eating sawdust to Harry, the band started playing music to dance to. Harry, since he was sans date, had spent his time close to the drink stand with a glass of pumpkin juice in hand and deeply regretting the fact he hadn't brought some booze with him. Briefly, he wondered what it taste like if he mixed pumpkin juice with some _KGB_ vodka.

Minding his duty, however, he scanned the room, and looked at the scene. The dance floor was packed with students and their dates, dancing to the tune of some jazz tune. The twins were having a raucous time with their respective dates (Fred had Angelina, and George had Alicia Spinnet), while Neville and Katrina were quietly holding on to each other in one corner of the room. Harry was surprised to see Snape actually looking on without malevolence. Ron and Hermione were at one of the smaller tables quietly talking, with Ron having his hand entwined with Hermione's 

His lips curled, though, as he saw Malfoy, slowly moving his hands along Cho's body. Nothing improper, but Harry wasn't a fool to know what game Malfoy was playing at.

"So where is your lady, young Sahib?"

Harry turned, to see Billy Fish speaking to him. Shaking his head, he answered, "The Sahib is a gutless coward, and no woman would have him." 

Fish grinned, "That is a foolish tale. Young Sahib has but one problem and it is not courage. He loses once, and doesn't wish to take the fight again, and on a different field."

Harry thought of what he believed Fish was trying to tell him, shrugged, and asked, "Er…Thanks, but tell me, how come you work for my uncle?"

Fish answered, "Your uncle saved my life in the desert. I was lost in minefield, and your uncle walked a path a through the field. He didn't crawl; he walked, and carried me back through the same footsteps he had walked through. Not once did he break step, or sweat, and was even singing."

"What did he sing?"

_Old lady Jill, is full a thrills,_

She'll… 

Harry laughed, and nudged him to stop, "All right, Billy, I heard that song before. I remember quite well." The song was a very obscene one Harry remembered during the morning runs back in Wales.

Fish excused himself then, "Excuse me, young Sahib, your uncle asked me to help him with something shortly."

Harry raised his glass as a farewell, and turned his attention back to the dance floor. Doc had taken Myrtle for a dance, and together both were talking and laughing back at the table. Cho was still dancing with Malfoy and Harry caught her eye as she turned and moved to the beat of the jazz. She seemed to have a sad, almost pitying look to Harry. Harry suddenly felt rage at this. _You want to fucking pity me? You think I need your pity? FUCK YOU ALL!_ Not wanting to give the whoresons and assholes that no doubt wanted to see him weep, to break down in tears and be heartbroken… His heart? Harry had first slept with a girl to the tune of _Harden My Heart_, and had decided that maybe doing what the title said was what he needed, as Cho so obviously wasn't worth it. _Not at this rate_, Harry thought, as he smiled to Cho, and raised his glass of pumpkin juice in a mocking salute. She turned, and Harry watched as Malfoy slid his hand lower towards her buttocks.

It was then the tune ended, and everyone seemed to be heading towards the tables, when Alex spoke up. Alex had taken off the heavy khaki tunic, and wore under it the loose, cotton khaki short-sleeve shirt, and tie. He had gotten on stage with Billy Fish (who had what looked like a fife), and in his hands was a violin. "This next is for the lovers, so ladies, drag your men out there, and lads, beg and find a lady to take you." With that, he put the violin to his neck and began playing a tune Harry recognized as that off the movie _Last of the Mohicans_. Neville and Katrina, Ron and Hermione, Seamus and Lavender…Harry watched as the couples danced to the slow, haunting violin melody. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at how happy the couples were. Part of him wondered if his failure at finding a girlfriend was a good thing, for even though the year had been quiet so far, Harry knew he was riding a tiger, and that any girl of his could get mauled. Maybe it was for the best his relationships were limited to women whose services he bought for the hour, or one night stands met in bar…

"I got your watch, lad. Go find a girl and dance with her." 

Startled, Harry turned to see Mad-Eye Moody, with his bowler pulled over his magical eye looking at him with an amused expression on his face. Harry was so surprised at this, that Mad-Eye would have a human feeling of this sort. Moody must have understood this for he grinned, and explained, "I, too, was once young, and remember about wanting to impress a girl. So take this old man's advice, and enjoy what you can, while you can." With that Moody walked off back to Mrs. Figg, and leaving behind Harry contemplating his words. 

Harry had barely started thinking, when he heard a soft, feminine voice calling to him, and someone tapping him on his shoulder. "Harry…" He turned, and saw himself facing Ginny Weasley. Flushed, she asked, "Harry, have you seen Colin? I would really like to dance with this one." Harry looked around and shrugged, "No, sorry Gin. You think of asking Fred or George." She shrugged, "No, I suppose I'll go see if one of his friends know where he is." She paused, and looked at Harry, and said, "Harry, I'm sorry, but could you…" Harry smiled, "Go find Colin, Gin. If I see him, I'll let him know, and try to have my uncle do an encore." She smiled and waved goodbye. Harry turned his attention back to the crowd and continued his thoughts on Moody's advice. The musical tempo continued, and Harry decided that he wouldn't be getting any worthwhile done just by moping and looking on in jealousy. 

Swigging down the last of the pumpkin juice, Harry walked out of the doors of the Great Hall and went towards the main doors. Ducking outside, Harry reached inside his coat pocket, and pulled out his cigar case, shrugging uncomfortably the Kevlar vest he wore beneath the shirt and vest Harry had on. While he wasn't expecting the Death Eaters to have firearms (not that the vest would have stopped anything larger then .45 caliber pistol rounds anyways), Harry _was_ expecting a knife or two in the back, and the vest could stop those. 

Opening his cigar case, Harry pulled out a long, thin cigar, pinched it, and savored the sweet smell of the tobacco, knowing the sweet smell would help kill the headache he was starting to have. Biting and spitting off the end, Harry had put it in his mouth and was about to light it with a match from the cigar case when his comm. set started sound in his ear. It was Bladvak, "Potter, there is an unusual disturbance in one of the broom closets near your position. To your right, under the stairs." Harry, swore silently, and held the bracelet next to his mouth and answered, "Bladvak, are you sure your sensors aren't picking up a couple fucking?" 

"Possibility, but nonetheless do check it out before you leave your post." Harry decided to get the job done so he wouldn't have to put up with listening Bladvak busting his balls all night about checking the place out. After all, the Death Eaters could very well have infiltrated a pair of their agents into Hogwarts disguised as a couple…

Harry slid the cigar back into the case and put it back into his coat pocket. With a bit of luck, he could come back out and savor the tobacco. As he climbed up the steps into the castle, Harry felt the whole exercise would be waste of time at best, a perverted joke on the part of Bladvak at worst.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted as he was bowled into and nearly knocked on his ass by a running student. Both of them slammed into a wall as Harry was turning a corner, and Harry pulled away and was about to launch into a tirade, thinking this was one of the idiots he was to check on when he stopped himself.

The visage he was about to chew out had fiery red hair, and an organdy dress. Harry recognized her after a second that it was Ginny, and he needed that second for her hair was mussed, and her face glittered with tears, and eyes that were as scarlet as her hair.  Both of them looked at each other, still entangled, before Harry asked stupidly, "Ginny?" Ginny seemed to have hard time breathing, gave a gasping sob, and broke away from him. As Harry was about to stop her, to ask her what was wrong, Ginny was wrong, running as fast as her she could. Harry wanted to run after her, but was stopped by the voice of Bladvak reporting, "Harry we detected a third person in there briefly. Search that location immediately and keep your channel open in case we need to send in backup." Harry, torn between duty and what his instincts told him to do, drew his Browning from his belt holster, and slide the action back, chambering a round. Using his left hand, Harry drew his wand, and held his right wrist over the left one, giving it support and almost as good stabilization as if he held it with both hands. 

With a thumb on the safety, Harry ran until he saw the little door underneath the staircase. Listening, he heard conversation and some movement, but couldn't tell what it was. Slowly, he curled his the last three fingers on his left hand to hold his wand, while using his thumb and forefinger to gently twist the knob. It was locked, so Harry stood back, and cast two spells. "_Petroleumus_" The keyhole slowly dripped as the inner works became coated with a slick layer of oil. "_Alohamora_" The lock was unlocked without a noise, and Harry gently turned the knob once again. Slowly, he pushed it open far enough that he saw a bit of a man's brown jacket, and trousers around at the ankles on a pair of skinny, sallow legs in the gloomy candle light that was coming from the room. Closing his eyes, he pointed his wand towards into the room, and cast, "_Lumos Projectilus_" Called the flare charm, this sent a bright ball of light into a room, and due to the intensity of the light, was known to temporarily blind people. 

Even with his eyes closed, Harry had to blink away a few neon green and purple spots on his eyes. Judging by the sudden shouts (_One male, one female_, Harry thought to himself), Harry could tell that his spell had caught them by surprise. Flicking the safety off, he held his Browning over his wand, and kicked the door in. _Check your corners_, Harry reminded himself. Before he went in he checked three of them, and as he entered, his mind saw one man, his age give or take, British Army uniform, with his trousers around his ankles. Obviously not a threat. In the man's arms, was a woman, same age or older or younger, Indian style dress with the sash or sari had seen on Indian women. Likewise not a threat.

Harry, still turning, checked the corner behind the door, and once his mind judged the fact the area was secure with no one about to immediately try to kill him did Harry relax, and it was then he recognized the couple, and just what he was seeing. The migraine behind his right eye just got that much worse.

_Ah, fuck…_ Harry thought to himself.

Colin Creevy, Parvati Patil. It didn't take a master wizard to figure out what the hell they were up to with Colin's trousers around his ankles, Parvatis's panties around her knees, and both of them entangled in each other's limbs.

Harry waited patiently for the two to quit struggling and get their vision back as he put his weapon on safe, holstered it, and placed his wand back in his pocket. Part of it was because he wanted to have their full attention when he spoke; and part of it was because he couldn't help but notice Colin had been very 'short'-changed in the manhood department, Parvati kept her legs and thighs closely shaved, and that his kicking down the door had caused a stain on Parvati's blue dress. 

Parvati and Colin were cursing (Harry couldn't help but smile inwardly at the fact Parvati could swear like any Para he knew), and then stared at Harry with their mouths open at having been caught. Taking his time, Harry shut the door, and briefly used his wand cast "_Lumos_" before he looked at them. Staring at them with what he hoped was a poker face, Harry ordered, "Colin, kindly pull your trousers up and do some justice to the uniform you wear."

"Uh, Har…"

"Quiet Colin, and do as I say!" Harry exploded, taking care to keep his voice down. Colin proceeded to do so, and Harry looked over at Parvati, "Parvati, I believe you really should put your knickers back on, but before you do…" Harry grabbed a roll of toilet paper from a stack next to the door, and handed it to Parvati who wordlessly wiped away at the stains, and did as Harry ordered.

Harry took a deep breath, and spoke, "Look, I'm not going to preach to you, but since what you two were doing has an effect on people I know, you _will_ obey me." To Colin, "Colin, you will go to the bathroom, clean up, and retire to your room. With a bit of luck, Ginny won't see you, and with even more luck her brothers will be too busy to notice anything until the morning. By morning, they will have found out what happened, but hopefully I'll have found a way to keep them from tearing you limb from limb by then." Colin was starting to pale, as Fred and George were pranksters for fun; heavens knew what they would do for vengeance. Harry turned to Parvati, "Parvati, you will likewise clean yourself up here, and do try to hide those stains, and go back to your room. If you can, send a note to Dean telling him you had a…stomachache of sorts. Once up in your room, I suggest you change and head over to Madame Pomfrey's and take a draught of Bloodmoon potion. I trust you have know what that potion is for?" She nodded as Harry mentioned the Morning After Potion.

Harry opened the door, and told them, "Good, now both of you go." Parvati took off for the Gryffindor Tower, but Colin hung back and turned to Harry. "Ha…" 

"Colin shut up and do as I told you to do if you want to live for the next couple hours. Understood?"

Colin seemed on the verge of breaking apart, but Harry couldn't say he had much sympathy for him. _He hurt himself and someone else, so he can go fuck off, _Harry thought harshly. After what had happened to him the last couple of days, Harry would have given his left nut for a woman like Ginny, and if Colin was stupid enough to throw it away for a five-minute bit of pleasure, then that was his lookout. 

Without another word, Colin took off in the same direction as Parvati and Harry took off at a fast walk for the Great Hall. As he made his way in, he transmitted a final message to Bladvak telling him it was merely a couple, and that he was retiring for the evening. Bladvak acknowledged it, and told him he wouldn't be contacted again unless it was an emergency. Harry made it to the Great Hall and went in. Inside, he saw that most couples were taking an interlude, and that Ron had headed off for the drink stand with his brothers while Hermione was talking with Alicia and Angelina. Harry realized his luck and walked over to Hermione.

"I need to talk to you quickly, Hermione." Harry whispered into her ear. 

Hermione got up and followed him around the room as Harry took the long way to the drink stand. Quickly, Harry told her, "Hermione, something has happened between Ginny and Colin. Ginny took off for parts unknown and I'm going to look for her. Don't ask, just listen," Harry ordered her as Hermione looked as though she were going to ask something. Continuing, Harry explained, "Hermione, just keep Ron from doing anything stupid, all right? As soon I find Ginny and see if she's okay, you can ask her what happened all right?" Hermione reluctantly nodded, and asked Harry, "Since you want to keep Ron busy, you want me to have a word with Angelina and Alicia? Keep the whole clan busy." Harry smiled, and nodded, "Good thinking, Hermione. I owe you one."

With that, Harry turned and made a beeline for the giant double doors that lead into the Great Hall, picking up his fedora from his table and jamming it on his head. From the hallway, he ran until he passed the main doors, and took the steps two at a time until he was outside of the Castle. It was then Harry noticed it was raining: cold, hard, and heavy, with the occasional flash of thunder. Harry thought of the slick black trench coat he had stashed in his room, and then thought, _Fuck it, not enough time_. Wiping away the rain away from his lenses, Harry slowly scanned the immediate area, hoping to find a sign, any sign of Ginny having passed this way. Slowly, he stepped forward, and saw pay dirt. 

There was a series of small footprints pressed into the thick, carpet-like grass, along with another print on a bald spot where there was dirt. Since the print was so small, Harry knew the person was female, and took off in the general direction of the lake. At that moment, Harry probably would have followed the prints to the gates of Hell and beyond, as Harry had only a vague idea of the pain Ginny was probably going through, but he could understand it. _Betrayal, heartache_, Harry thought to himself, _been there, done that, and tailored the fucking shirt_. _No one deserves any of it though. _

Following the outline of the lake, Harry continued looking, hoping to see a flash of red, or color or something in the gloom that was only illuminated by an occasional flash of lightning. Stopping, Harry could feel the cold, and every bit of damp from the constant splatter of rain on him as he hurriedly wiped his glasses on a dry part of his tie. Taking a slow, long look, Harry saw a small patch of red right on the edge of the lake. 

Quickly, he ran towards it, and saw that it was Ginny, kneeling at the very edge of the lake with her head in hands. The water lapped around her, and Harry could see she was crying in choking, gasping sobs. Part of Harry was hurt with her, as there had been all too many times over the years he had wanted to let loose those dark things he had kept locked up. Yet he never had, for the first lesson someone like him had learned was that crying got you nowhere, and your only recourse was to take those unpleasantries and keep them locked up as soon as they appeared.

Slowly, Harry walked to the side of her, and waded through the icy water. Kneeling, he turned to her, gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and spoke softly, "Ginny?" Ginny turned quickly towards him once he spoke, with her eyes looking scarlet as her hair, and a solid stream of tears running down her face. Harry shook her slightly, and Ginny threw her arms around his neck and drew close to him. Without pause, she started sobbing into his shoulder. Harry hadn't expected this, but something in him told him to keep his mouth shut, and to just hold on to her. 

Wrapping his arms around the silken material of her organdy dress, Harry could feel her heaving, convulsing sobs, with the warmth of her tears flowing on to his shoulders and down his arms. Gently, he rocked her in his arms, and kept his silence, as he understood that at this moment in her life, Ginny probably was at that inner place where no one could reach her.

After what seemed like an eternity kneeling in the water, with the cold rain pouring down on them, Harry could feel Ginny start to breathe normally. While she still seemed to be sobbing, the worst appeared to have passed. Harry gave her another minute, and the sobbing stopped, with only the short breaths a person makes after having had a heavy dose of crying. Harry asked her quietly, "Ginny?" She looked up into his eyes, her soft brown eyes wet and rimmed red, as though they were pools of sand that he would fall into and never come out of again. Knowing he had her attention, Harry continued, "Let's go back, you'll die of cold out here." She turned her eyes back down to the water, and nodded. As softly as he could, Harry rose, and Ginny rose with him, and only let go once they were fully standing. Not wanting her to get anymore wet then she already was from the rain, Harry took off the fedora he wore, and put it on her head. "Here Ginny, put this on. It'll help with the rain. " Ginny let her head hang as Harry placed it on her head and tried to move some of her hair into it. 

Knowing that the dress she had on wasn't much protection against the elements, Harry took off the coat he wore unbuttoned and draped it around her shoulders. Gently taking one of her hands into his own, and pressing her against him, he said to her, "Come on, you need to dry up and have a cup of tea or chocolate or something. Hagrid's place is closer so we'll go there."

Ginny only nodded as he led her across the grounds to Hagrid's hut, and Harry went up to the door and started banging on the door.

"Open up, Hagrid, it's me Harry!"

The door opened to reveal Hagrid in his moleskin coat with a crossbow slung over a shoulder, obviously getting ready for a trip into the forest. 

"What's wrong there, 'Arry?" 

"Got caught in the rain. It all right if I get Ginny dried off and have cup of tea?"

"'Course! Come in. Come in." Hagrid waved at them to come in.

Inside, Hagrid gave Ginny an enormous blanket and an equally large towel and told her, "Right, go into the privy there," Hagrid pointed to the shower and toilet combination he had in house in the small bedroom of his, " and put those on for now while your clothes dry off. Then sit by the fire and let the warmth in your bones." Ginny took the blanket and towel, numbly thanked him, and headed off to the bathroom. Hagrid turned to Harry, "What's wrong with her?" 

"Too long to explain, and I don't want to intrude on her business."  
  
"Fair enough…Listen, I have an appointment to keep, so you think you can mind your manners and brew up a cup a tea for her?"

"Yeah, no problem, Hagrid. Where you off to?"

"Er…Business, Harry, business."

Hagrid then told him he would be back sometime in the early morning, so he told Harry to just leave the door unlocked when they left. With that, he bid Harry and Ginny good night, and together with his dog Fang stalked off into the blustery night. Harry started shivering, as the cold and rain were starting to get to him. Looking around, Harry found Hagrid's teakettle, and a bag of lemon tea. Filling it up with water, Harry hung it over the fire and then scrounged up another blanket, towel, and a pair of tea mugs. Setting those aside, Harry kicked off his shoes, and peeled off his vest, shirt, Kevlar vest, undershirt, and socks, taking the time to place his arsenal including his wand on top of a drawer near by. Wrapping himself up in his blanket, Harry was about to take off the rest of his clothes and hang them on the rack Hagrid had close to the fire when Ginny, her sodden clothes in hand and likewise bundled in a blanket, came in. Without a word, she draped them over part of the rack and sat down on the bench in front of the fire. Her eyes seemed slightly less red, but were instead almost empty as they stared into the flames. 

Feeling the cold, Harry briefly went into the bathroom where he stripped off the rest of his sodden clothes before wrapping himself back in the woolen blanket and towel he had. Stepping back out to the living room with the fireplace, Harry saw Ginny hadn't moved at all, and was statuesque in the way she laconically stared at the flames, barely breathing, barely moving.

Harry quietly, not wanting to disturb her, hung his clothes up to dry, and went over to where he had left the tea stuff. Dropping a couple of spoonfuls of the yellow powder into the mugs, Harry carried them and a pair of spoons to the bench, where he sat down next to Ginny and watched the kettle for signs of the water boiling. Harry tried to keep his distance from Ginny, not wanting to intrude on her after what happened to her, but still found his right knee close to her. Not touching, but close enough to feel her presence. Harry also found that despite the rain, he could still smell the rose-scented soap Ginny had used to wash with, and the peach scent of her shampoo.

In the firelight, Harry could see the way her hair hung down from her head, and the whiteness of the nape of her neck. With a practiced eye, Harry examined all he could see, and noticed that the freckles on her face likewise were on her neck and what he could see of her shoulders. Harry's observations were cut short, though, as he heard the low whistle of the kettle, and Harry reached forward and moved the kettle away from the fire. Moving with practiced motions, he poured in the hot water into the mugs, and once he had set the kettle away from the fire, he stirred them with the spoons he had brought. Once he felt the tea mix had been thoroughly dissolved, he passed one of the mugs to Ginny, "Here, you'll need this to fight off the cold from the rain." Ginny answered in a flat, emotionless voice. "I'm fine…"

"I don't mean a sick cold. I mean cold as in the fact you've spent how long in a wet dress? When you stay in wet clothes for a long time, your body temperature will drop substantially and you will die. Now, I don't think you want to die quite yet, do you?" Ginny continued looking down, but sipped slowly at the tangy liquid. Harry leaned back, cradling the cup in his hands, and enjoying the warmth of a fire and a cup of tea. The lessons he had learned in Wales had been taken to heart.

After a minute, Harry, as gently as he could, asked Ginny, "Want to talk about it?" Ginny sipped her mug of tea, and replied angrily, "Why should you care? You're almost as bad as…" She stopped herself and looked miserable. Harry had a pretty good idea of what she was going to say. _She's right, maybe I am as bad_, Harry thought to himself. Setting his mug down, he looked over at her, and asked quietly, "As bad as Colin?" Ginny threw her face in her hands and started crying. Harry softly put his arm on her shoulder, and drew her close. 

Gently, he whispered to her, "It's all right…It's all right…I deserved that…" 

She looked up, threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder, "Oh, Harry, forgive me." 

"You've done nothing wrong, it's only human to be angry at me. I know how you feel."

"You do?"

Harry told her of what had happened when he had asked Cho out. Ginny gasped when Harry told her about the slap, and the words Cho had said. Harry concluded with watching her at the ball, "So I realized about then, watching Cho playing politics with Malfoy that I had been damned foolish all along, that I should have known better."

Ginny was quiet, and said, "Harry, in case you don't know, I've had this crush on you since the day I first saw you, real bad like. I thought I had gotten over it after…Colin asked me out during the summer, but…" She stopped, apparently struggling to go on. "I went out with him since I was really hurt after I realized how much you liked Cho and ignored me…and I kept going back to Colin even though I caught him with other girls before…"

Harry was surprised enough by this to ask, "Tonight wasn't the first time you caught him, like that?"

"With another girl and his pants down? No, it was the first time tonight, but was it the first time that I found out he was seeing someone else besides me?" She drifted off, still holding on to Harry and then looked up into his face. Harry could see every one of her freckles as she said morosely, "I'm a real prat aren't I?"

"Ginny, you are not a prat; if anyone is it's me. I was so stupid in chasing someone distant, when there was someone who was there all along for me." Harry smiled, "I still remember that Valentine you sent me, your first year, and I was a second. You remember that?" Ginny, for the first time since Harry had slammed into her in the hallway, laughed, a deep throaty laugh that came from her throat. 

Harry found it _very_ attractive to say the least, and started to feel nervous in her presence, something that hadn't happened since his 'explorations' during the holidays.

"That was horrible, Harry! I don't know what I was thinking…"

"I don't know what I was thinking by labeling you merely as a Ron's sister, Ginny. Tell me one thing though." Ginny looked at him with alert eyes, the red almost gone. Harry asked, grinning, "Did you recognize me in Wales, when me and Nev came up to your family wearing our officer cadet uniforms?"

"I know I did, Harry. You looked so handsome, and changed, wearing it."

Harry laughed, "Not handsome, but changed…that I was."  For a while, Ginny just rested against Harry, with the both of them lost in their thoughts. Harry didn't know what Ginny was thinking, but his were along one line: _I have been such a fool_…

I should have taken more notice of her before, and not hurt her through my stupidity. Yet…if she is forgiving, I can change that…Second chances come few and far between but…

Gently, Harry said, "Ginny?" She looked up into his eyes once more, and once more Harry was almost lost in the depths of the sand that were her eyes. Harry spoke, his voice almost hoarse and raspy with emotion. "Ginny, I'm sorry for any and all hurts I have ever given you. I didn't mean to hurt you, indeed, I was so dense that I never understood just how deep you felt about me…" Harry paused, "I hope I don't insult you when I ask if you can forgive me for that, and understand that I didn't wish to hurt you, as I was still trying to understand how to act around women then. I hope you can forgive me, and…" This was getting to Harry, as here was a girl to whom he hadn't paid a sum of money for 'services'. It was the real deal, and Harry had to almost croak it out, his voice almost shattered with the raw emotion of it.

"Ginny, if you wish, I would like to take you out to dinner, during the Hogsmeade visit tomorrow." Ginny seemed startled, and looked at Harry, her eyes unreadable. "Do you mean to tell me, Harry, that after what, three, four years, you have taken a fancy to me, and have just asked me out on a date?" Harry looked right back into the oceans of sand, and nodded, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. "Yes, I want to take you out on a date. You're wrong about the fancy bit though." His face was as serious as he could make it, "I think I'm in love with you. Love at first sight, only I was blindfolded and now have had my blindfold ripped off."

Ginny face was unreadable for half a second as he finished, but then seemed to glow, the way Harry had watched a parachute flare brighten on a gloomy, spring night in the Welsh mountains and vales. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and brought his head down so that her forehead and his were touching. Harry saw her bright red lips purse and answer, every syllable filled with delight and emotion. "Of course, I go! Yes, Harry, yes! You don't know how long I've hoped for this!" She tilted her head, and kissed Harry. Harry hadn't been expecting this, but nonetheless found she tasted of lemon, and honey, and kissed as passionately back.

In Harry's mind, he had a sudden humorous thought, _If we have kids, I can imagine what they'll say if I tell them I kissed their mom before I even went out with her._ To Harry, it didn't matter that he barely knew her, all that mattered was what his instincts told him, and one sacrosanct lesson he had learned was to never doubt his instincts. Those instincts were ringing in him one message: _This is the one_.

Despite wanting to savor the moment forever, Harry gently broke off the kiss. Ginny still held on to him, and looked with watering eyes towards him. She whispered, "Thank you."

"No, I thank you, Ginny."

Still holding on to her, Harry asked her, "Ginny, you know we'll probably have to see each other in secret?" She nodded, "Yeah, Hermione told me you think you place Ron, her, and anyone you get close to in danger. I think we are in danger no matter what happens, but I understand why you believe that." 

Harry took her hands and cupped them in his own, marveling at their softness as he pressed them against his forehead. "Can you live with that if we went ahead?"

"Yes, could you?"  
  
"I'd gladly suffer the Cruciatus for you, Gin," Harry found his voice come close to breaking once again as he spoke those words.

Ginny embraced him, and for the next several minutes (mere seconds it seemed to Harry) they held on to each other before Harry remembered something.

"Ginny, I just remembered, how are you going to handle Colin?" She frowned, "I don't know…I haven't really thought of that." Harry told her, "How about quietly? I mean, those two idiots have screwed with your happiness, and that of Dean, who really is a nice guy."

She seemed to mull over this, and nodded, "You're right, Harry. I think I'll tell him in the morning." The two of them held their embrace a minute longer before Ginny sighed and said, "I think our clothes are dry by now, which means…" 

"I'd better take you home before your brothers come searching for us."

"Unless they're snogging with their dates!" She laughed and Harry laughed with her. Ginny got up, pulled her clothes from the rack, and with a smile to Harry went into the bathroom to change. Harry sighed, and pulled his clothes off from the rack. They were wrinkled and stiff the way air-dried clothes were, but Harry put back on his underwear, trousers, and socks, feeling only a mild dampness that wasn't too uncomfortable. Harry was putting on his Kevlar vest when Ginny came out and said, "Oh, sorry Harry, I thought you were done changing." Harry waved her off, "Nothing to worry about. Just have to put this on, and then my shirt and vest." Ginny took a chair from Hagrid's table, and watched Harry put on his shirt, tuck it in over his Kevlar, and then his black vest. She asked him, "What is that thing you put on under your shirt, Harry?" 

"A muggle protective vest, it's made of glue, cobwebs and some other stuff to make something called Kevlar. It's much lighter then metal armor and the kind I have on will stop a knife good, which is why I wear the damn thing." Harry replied as he buttoned the vest and started to put on his tie on. Concentrating hard, Harry's hand slipped and his knot was messed up.

Ginny laughed as Harry cursed at the tie. She got up and went over to him and took his tie in hand. With practiced motions, she fixed it for Harry smartly, and moved it up to his throat. Harry grinned and asked her, "It's seemed you've done this before." Ginny slipped her arms around him, and replied, "I watched my mum do this for my dad so many times I can fix one with my eyes closed. Ron had to have me help with his tie before he went here." Harry laughed and kissed her on the forehead. 

Harry spoke, "Ginny, I hate to break away now, but we really should be going." Ginny lingered though, and looked in his face, and said almost mournfully, "I'm almost afraid this will end up being a dream or a nightmare. Maybe even a bit of both." Harry drew her closer, then said, "This is no dream Ginny; you're as real as I am. Would this happen in a dream?" With that, Harry brought her lips to his, and kissed her. Both of them lingered on that kiss, and to Harry, it was the sweetest, and greatest one he had had in the fifteen years of his life. 

While he was enjoying it, Harry knew he had to tell her something unpleasant, and do it as soon as possible.

"Ginny, when I told you before that we were going to have to see each other in secret…"  
  


"Yes, dear?"

"It means secret. No one, no one must know. Hermione, any friends of yours, your brothers, Sirius, no one must know of us. Okay? I don't want you hurt because of me." Harry looked into Ginny's eyes as he spoke this, hoping she would understand. Ginny nodded, "All right, Harry, all right." With that Harry kissed her one last and time and finished dressing, which meant he strapped on his Fairbairn and his pistol. As he was about to slip on his coat and hat, he noticed the rain was still pouring. Harry held out his coat and slipped it over Ginny's shoulders once more, telling her, "It's still raining heavy out there, and I'm sure everyone will wonder why you aren't soaked."

"So what will the story be?"

"It took me a long time to find you, and you were hiding…where?"

"Near the forest, and by the lake, which is partly true anyhow."

"Good…"

Harry took his fedora, and put it on Ginny's piled red hair, and looked at her. _She looks so grand wearing that hat_, Harry thought to himself. Entwining an arm of his with one of hers, the two ran laughing in the hard rain, the water splashing against them as they ran through a deep puddle here and there. 

Just as they reached the steps to the Castle, Harry stopped her, and embraced and kissed her one last time, with the rain beating down on them, their breath steaming in the chilly October air. "Tomorrow?" Ginny murmured, "Tomorrow." She then looked surprised and asked Harry, "I'm not unhappy and all, but…" She seemed to be thinking. Harry asked, "Yes, Gin?"  

"Where will we be going if you want to keep things a secret? I mean, I know Ron, Hermione, Fred and George and their dates alone will at least be there."

Harry smiled, "Leave it to me, Ginny dear." With that, they pulled apart, and Harry escorted her into the Castle. Since there was the chance someone might see them and get the wrong ideas, Harry walked slightly distant from her, and walked her as fast as possible to the Gryffindor tower. Harry wasn't surprised to find the hallways deserted as the standing orders Moody and Figg had set up called for the hallways to be cleared and patrolled by random patrols of goblins and dwarves starting at 2300. The time was almost midnight.

As Harry saw the portrait that was the entrance to the tower, he said to Ginny, keeping his voice calm, cool, and professional, "I have to report to my uncle. You can return my jacket and hat in the morning. Are you sure you are all right?" Ginny knew what he was acting at, and replied in a low, tired voice, "Yes, and thank you, Harry. Good night."

"Night."

Harry turned away and started walking to the History of Magic classroom. Entering it, he saw his uncle, Billy Fish, Snape, and Moody were sitting around a table having a drink or two, bottles of fire-whiskey and shot glasses on a table surrounded by several of the chairs students used. Moody spotted him and waved him over, "Hello Harry, what brings you here?" Snape sipped from his glass, and looked at him, "Yes, what brings you here, Potter?" Harry ignored Snape, and reported to his uncle and Moody about security arrangements, taking care not to mention the whole business with Colin and Parvati. He finished and was about to leave when Alex spoke, "Oh, Harry Bladvak mentioned he sent you to monitor a disturbance in one of the broom closets near the Great Hall. What was that about?" Taking care to make it seem as though it were nothing, Harry answered, "Just a couple of students, sir." Alex laughed, "Making the beast with two backs, no doubt?" Harry kept a polite silence as Moody, Fish, and Alex laughed. Snape asked coldly, "Who?" Harry glanced at him, and answered, "I know what you are going at, sir, and you have my word it wasn't Neville…or Katrina." Snape looked as though he were going to answer, but kept his mouth shut, and Harry said good night to the teachers, and beat a hasty retreat to the Gryffindor tower, where the Fat Lady was chatting with one of the other female portraits. "Password, Mr. Potter."

"Balderdash"

The door swung open, and Harry walked through it into the Common Room. It was largely empty, except for Fred and George, Katrina, Neville, Doc Detibedeux, and Ron and Hermione. All were still in costume (Fred's was a blue RAF uniform, while George must have talked with Fish for he wore the uniform of the Seventh Duke of Edinburgh's Own Gurkha Rifles). Harry's jacket and hat was laying down on one of the sofas, but Ginny was nowhere in sight. The first thing Harry asked was to Hermione. "Did Ginny make it back, yet?"

Hermione nodded, but it was George who spoke first, "Harry, tell us what that Creevey did to Ginny?" Fred was quiet, and staring at Harry intently. Ron looked as though he was going to say something, but it was Hermione who spoke first. "Harry, Ginny came up here and she looked real sad, and she said it was over between her and Colin. She didn't want to tell us what happened?"

Harry held up a hand, "Someone get me a towel and a bathrobe, I'm soaked to the bone. I'll tell you everything in good time." Instantly, a towel, and a red and gold bathrobe were in his hands as Fred and George moved him bodily up the stairs, and into the boy's bathroom. Harry quickly showered (with the hot water turned up close to scalding) dried off, and went down back to the Common Room still in his bathrobe. 

"Now," Fred commanded, "explain to us just what the fuck is going on." Everyone was staring at him intently. Harry took a chair next to the fire, and was quiet for a moment as he allowed the warmth of the fire to warm him, and allowed himself remembered the way Ginny had felt in his arms, the cold rain around them, and softness of that last kiss in the shadow of Hogwarts. 

"Tell me, first, how's Dean doing?"

"Dean's a bit peeved since Parvati had a stomach ache and left him high and dry out there on the dance floor."

Harry snorted slightly. George asked Harry, "Now, tell us, what did Creevey did to Ginny."

"Before I do, I want the solemn word from all of you that you will delay any vengeance on him and anyone else I say, or else I'm not saying a damn word. 'Kay?" Fred, George, and Ron reluctantly nodded.

Harry started, "All right, I was out having a bit of air when Bladvak, the head goblin, calls me on my communications set telling me there is this disturbance in one of the broom closets. I go to check it out and on my way over there, I run right into Ginny, who has tears coming down her face, and when I ask what's wrong, she takes off. Now, I'm worried, so I go to check out the broom closet, open it slightly, and fire off a Shooting Illumination Charm into it. After that, I kick in the door, and guess who I find in there?" The last came out scathingly caustic. 

Neville, reclining on one of the couches with Katrina on his lap, asked, "Let me guess, the redoubtable Mister Creevey with some tart from…Slytherin? Parkinson I hope."

"Sadly no…Parvati Patil."

Harry could swear he heard a mouse fart in the distance; the silence was that deep. Doc was the first to respond, his accent pure Deep South. "You have got to be shitting me, Harry? Patil? Creevey?"

Fred said, "Well, I suppose that would rile her up. I mean, Angelina would murder me if she caught me snogging with someone else."

"Not snogging, Fred."

"Eh?"

"Fucking."

Things went chaotic, as Ron and the twins got up and looked as though they were about to make a beeline for the stairs to the boys' dorm. Harry, who jumped behind Ron and locked him in a full nelson while Doc and Neville similarly immobilized the twins, had no doubt that the lads were going to drag Colin out of his bed and Heaven help him for the twins sure as hell wouldn't. After a minute or so of struggling, they were calmed down enough that Harry and the rest let them go. Fred rubbed his shoulder where Doc had twisted his arm and asked Harry, "Are you sure about the shagging bit, Harry? I mean…"

"Tell me, Fred, what do you call it when you get caught with your dick in a girl, hmm?" 

That shut them up, and Hermione spoke thoughtfully, "No wonder she was so angry…First there was that crush she had on Harry, and then this…" She looked at Harry, "You know it took her a while to get over you?" Harry sighed, "Yeah, I suppose that was blind of me, now that I see it after that mess with Cho." Knowing he was in murky waters, Harry knew he had to tread carefully to keep the secret. Ron exploded at Harry, "So don't be so goddamn dense, Harry! Ask her out, damn it! I mean, you'll be an improvement over Creevey, and weren't you the one who told me…"

Harry gave a harsh laugh, "Ron, if you believe that I'll be better then Creevey, you're a few screws loose in the head. With me, she'd be riding the death seat with me. You want to bury your sister?" Not giving them a chance to answer, Harry was thinking about just how he was going to execute his first date with Ginny, as he had been bullshitting to the nth degree when he had told her he would handle it, and said, "Anyhow, that is immaterial at the moment. After I told those idiots to make themselves scarce, I told Hermione here to get keep you three busy and took off after her. It took me a bit to find her, but I managed it in this fucking cyclone out there, and brought her back. Now, tomorrow is the first Hogsmeade visit this year. Let's make use of it by cheering her up if she wants, or leaving a bit of time alone to her if she chooses to. All we can do is be here for her if she needs a shoulder to cry on." Harry decided not to mention the fact Ginny had emptied a gallon or so of salt and tears when they were out there. This Harry knew for when they had first kissed Harry had been reminded of drinking a lemon margarita, with the salt and lemon.

All of them agreed on this, and the conversation drifted over to what the other couples evening had been like. Doc said he had had a great time, and finished wistfully, "It's a pity Myrtle isn't still alive, she'd make a guy lucky." Katrina and Neville, as well as the Ron and Hermione, were both quiet about what they had done during the ball, and Harry didn't wish to pry, but he asked Katrina how her father had acted towards Neville. 

She grimaced, "He kept his word, but even though I love him, he's my father after all, I can understand why people hate him so much. It's just…" She got up, and ran up to her room. In less then a minute, she was back carrying a small picture in her hand, explaining, "It's hard looking at a picture like this, and thinking Dad and Professor Snape is the same person."  Harry looked at the photograph, showing a very young dark-haired Katrina fiercely hugging her father, with Snape having the same kind of look on his face that he had on during the Sorting ceremony. It was a magical picture with the two of them waving at the cameraman, and Harry couldn't help but wonder just what was it that made Snape such a goddamn…enigma, Harry supposed.

Handing it back, Harry saw that the twins had gone over to a table and were poring over a piece of parchment with avid interest. Trying to glance at it, Harry saw it was full of diagrams, and figures before Fred rolled it up and said to Harry, "Hey, thanks for going to find Ginny. We probably would have made asses out of ourselves." 

Harry waved it off, and was about to head up to his bed, hoping for sleep and thinking of how he was going to date Ginny, when Hermione asked, "What of Dean? Shouldn't we tell him of…"

Harry shrugged, "Tell him soon, but not now, and not tomorrow. 'Sides, I have a sneaky idea he already knows. If it comes to it, I'll do the deed."

Hermione nodded, and Harry said goodnight as he went up to the bathroom to get ready for bed. This he did quickly, and later as he drifted off to sleep, he had to smile, as the promise of a date, and the memory of kisses swirled and smoked in his tired mind.


	19. Chapter XIX: First Date

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Speaking of which, I believe I said in one of my earlier chapters that I was going to say as close to canon as possible. Now, I realize writing an AU fanfic of a year that has already been covered I shouldn't be too concerned in regards to canon, yet nonetheless I am. It is for that reason I've decided to incorporate elements of Book V along with the outline of events I drew up for my work. Hopefully, this won't disappoint people but I'm sure some of you may have noticed already some details from Bk. V. I won't say what they are, since I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, so just stay alert and read Book V as soon as possible. To be quite truthful, there are portions where my work and canon can dovetail quite easily and well, and I intend on using them.

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XIX: First Date 

She ran her fingers along Harry's scalp, still short and sheered where Tom Courtenay had taken the clippers to it. The fingertips traveled, leaving only the merest sensation for Harry to feel. Harry lay perfectly still, savoring the feeling of Alice next to him, and the two of them against the cool sheets. Alice's fingers stopped on the scar on his forehead, and gently rested on it. She looked down at him, and asked, "Tell me of the girls in your life, Harry." Harry opened an eye and looked at her, sighed, and answered, 

_"I have three women I suppose. The first is, well, like you, a friend, a person who has watched my back since I was about eleven. She was one of the first true friends I ever made."_

_"Her name is Hermione Granger?"_

_Harry looked at Alice askew, and laughed, "You read Rita Skeeter don't you?"_

_Alice laughed, and said, "Yeah, and judging by your tone, it sounds as if it was only a friendship. So what about your other two girls."_

_Harry leaned back, and looked at the ceiling, and spoke, "The second girl is a crush, someone who I've had a crush on since a couple years ago. I tried to work the guts to ask her out, and when I did, I found out this guy I knew already asked her out." Pausing, Harry breathed deeply and continued, "I was jealous, and hoped the worst for him. It did, and now I don't think I'll have a snowball's chance in hell at winning her. Yet, I still have that crush, and it still hurts."_

_"And the third lady who is in your life?"_

"She has a crush on me."

_Alice laughed, "I take it you aren't too thrilled with her?"_

_Harry shrugged, "I don't know…She's the sister of my best friend, but…I don't know. I hope I'm not hurting her, but part of me knows I am."_

_"Why don't you like her?"_

_"Well, it's just that…when she first came to the school, there was a time she needed to be rescued, and I did so. Suppose that is my problem, I can't get it out of my thick skull that the girl I rescued, and the girl today are two different people." Shrugging once more, he finished, "Not that it matters since she got taken this summer."_

_Alice rolled over on to him, and Harry watched as breasts pressed against his chest. She leaned down, and whispered in his ear. "No matter Harry. Take this woman's advice though…"  
  
_

_"What's that?" Harry was playing the same game Alice was, tracing the outline of her breasts with a fingertip._

_"If you ever get the chance again, go for the one who has the crush on you…Love is like a game of dice, Harry. You never know the result, until you wager all you have and roll."_

_"Speaking of rolling…"_

Harry's eyes opened as he realized he was laying in bed at Hogwarts, and that he had been having another dream. Remembering the night before, where he had held on to Ginny, and they had kissed, Harry grinned to himself as he stared at the ceiling. It had felt good, sweet, much more fulfilling then any he had bought so many times over the summer. Much the same way a chocolate bar couldn't compare to a bite from a home-cooked meal. The former, while tasty, couldn't compete against the latter in fulfillment.

Swiveling his eyes, he saw that it was still dark outside, but his watch (which he had set down on the stand next to his bed along with his weapons when he went to sleep) was open and the hands were at 0530. Yawning, Harry got up, and heard the snores and breathing coming from everyone else in the room. Running a hair through his close-cropped hair, Harry felt that it was thicker, and decided to rise and go to the meet he had scheduled with Sirius and Remus. It was then he swore softly, for he realized that he still had to figure out a date with Ginny, and to keep it a secret one at that.

"Morning, Harry."

Harry turned and saw it was Dean Thomas, who seemed to be wide-awake, and writing a letter, using a textbook as a desk. "Morning, Dean."

"Morning, Harry. How was your ball?"

"I had the duty…what of yours?"

"About what I expected with Parvati taking off with someone else in the middle of it, like your own last year."

Somehow, Harry didn't think Parvati was dropping her knickers in a broom closet last year. _But, _Harry conceded, _I have been wrong before_.

"So you know, huh?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, but I can't say I blame her, since I got a girl in the shadows myself."

This was a surprising development for Harry, so he asked astonished, "Who is she?"

Dean laughed, "Nah, can't tell you, she's from Slytherin." Harry laughed, and marveled how strange the world turned. Already, he was feeling better, as now he only had two things to be concerned with: the meet, and the date. 

Harry suddenly remembered something…today was a Sunday… the meet was on a Wednesday…he still had time for the meet! True it would be the hour before classes started on a weekday, but nothing was perfect.

 Laughing, Harry got up and went to the shower, seeing a sudden ray of brightness as for once he had something a _normal _kid had to worry about: setting up a date with a girl. Sure it had to be secret, but substitute the world for parents and well…

                        *          *          *

Three hours later, Harry found himself hurriedly composing a note to Ginny with the directions to a small place he had cased out in Hogsmeade. Harry finished his writing, and folded it until it could fit into the size of half of his palm, and sipped from a mug of hot chocolate at his elbow in the table at the Great Hall. The weather had chilled rapidly, but with the previous night's excitement still heavy on everyone's minds (Harry had seen a few necks with hickies, and wondered how many more broom closets had been raided. Judging by the sudden drop in house points across the board, Harry had no doubts quite a few couples had been busted.)

Harry hadn't as much experience as, say the twins, in exploring the back alleys and little places of Hogsmeade. Yet, armed with the Marauder's Map and his instincts Harry, after washing, and a quick meeting with Moody and Figg in regards to Security (nothing interesting had happened, and things were as quiet as a tomb), Harry had hit the town of Hogsmeade. Knowing that his scar would make him a visible target, Harry had worn his wizard's cap (something which he disliked since the damn thing kept getting knocked off wherever he moved) and his cloak. Using the tradecraft he had learned over the summer, he had found a quiet, dimly lit place in one of the side streets of Hogsmeade. It was also far enough away from the usual haunts of Hogwarts students and faculty that Harry wouldn't have to worry about anyone walking in on him and Ginny.

At about eight, he had returned to Hogwarts, and settled to breakfast, as after the previous evening, everything was being done an hour late and at a much slower pace then was normally the case.  Harry watched as his classmates entered the Great Hall looking for breakfast. Leaving the note unsigned, Harry folded it and waited as Ron and Hermione came in, followed by Katrina and Neville. Doc followed shortly thereafter, and Harry asked, "Where's Fred and George." Ron hooked a thumb behind his back, where he saw the twins in a heated conversation with Lee Jordan. Harry couldn't make out much of the conversation, but got the ending as Lee came and sat at the Gryffindor table. "I don't care what you do, just so long as I don't hear about it beforehand. If I were to hear about it, then I'm legally bound to stop you idiots from carrying it out, so don't ask me to run decoy for you!" Lee was all but yelling at Fred and George, who shook their heads in disgust.

 Harry greeted them good morning and asked, "What was that about?" 

Fred shrugged, "Just asked old Lee if he wanted in on a bit of the usual…"

George chimed in, "Mayhem, pranks, vengeance that sort of thing."  
  


Harry replied, shaking his own head, "Shouldn't you leave Creevey's fate up to Ginny? I mean _she_ was the one who got hurt."

Fred responded cheerfully, "Be that as it may, we are still her brothers…"

"Honor bound to give justice where it is needed."

"Now, since Mr. Creevey's problem is in his pants…"

"Well, we have ways to correct _that_."

Doc, who had been silently chomping away on a stack of buttermilk pancakes, jumped in, " Ah, honor and vengeance…in both of my homelands, the two are ever so intertwined…Speaking of which, look over yonder." He pointed towards one of the doors, where Ginny and Colin seemed to be quietly conversing near the door. Colin looked miserable, whilst Ginny seemed to be drained of emotion, and tired. After a minute, Colin smiled slightly, and both of them laughed a little, and Colin handed over a stack of envelopes and proceeded to leave the Great Hall.

Ginny came by, sat down, and looked at everyone who was staring at her intently (except for Harry, who had suddenly discovered the aesthetic qualities of a mug of hot chocolate). She smiled, and asked, "I hope none of you were hoping for drama, and gushing tears, and all that rubbish?" Fred and George snorted, Fred asking, "Not quite, but we were hoping for something to give us the slightest excuse to break his head a bit." Ginny laughed and said, "Don't, I already told him it was over between us, and that there wasn't any bad feelings between us over it." Harry wondered if those moments in Hagrid's hut had really improved her outlook that fast.

Hermione asked, "Are you sure you're all right? I mean if you need someone to talk we're here for you? Me, Ron…"

"It's all right, I'm fine."

Doc asked, "By the way, what are those envelopes Colin gave you?" 

"Pictures from last night."

Everyone eagerly opened them to find two copies of the ones taken last night. Ginny handed one to Harry and said, "Here's the one Colin took of me and you, Harry." Harry was pleased to see that Ginny had made the tone friendly, but just that, friendly. Opening the envelope, Harry pulled out a print, and deftly slid in the note from the palm of his hand into the envelope. Setting it down, Harry saw the picture, and noticed that it was quite well done; him and Ginny looking cheerfully at the camera. Harry smiled, and handed over the envelope to Ginny, putting it so that her hand could feel the note inside. "Quite well done, Ginny, thanks."

Getting up, he told his friends, "Listen, my uncle wants me to go over a few things. See you at the Three Broomsticks at about ten?"

They waved goodbye and Harry headed up to his room. Once there, he went to his chest and opened it. Inside, he pulled out the small magical case that he stored his weapons, the photo album full of pictures of him and his parents Hagrid had given him during his first year, and other pictures he had taken over the years. The one picture he was looking for was the one that Dudley had snapped off the day before he had left for the Weasley's, the one showing him surrounded by the ten girls and Madam Meg of Meg's. Harry had stuck it in one corner of the inside lid, and often took a gander at it every time he opened the case.

Pulling it off of the box, Harry gazed at it for a few minutes, thinking of the changes that had happened in his life within the last…what? Last summer, he hadn't expected to learn how to kill with gun, blade, and his bare hands. Harry hadn't expected to find sanity confronting risk, and death, much less expect to find he (quite frankly) thrived on it. As for women, Harry hadn't expected to learn so much and so fast, and that had no doubt a hand in ensuring he hadn't let the demons within kill him as good as a Killing curse would have. Gazing at the picture in his hand, Harry thought of what he had truly done over the summer. Did he regret it? Of course not, for as he had told Lucius Malfoy, he was young, virile, and attached to no one girl; the ideal persona for a soldier, or any young man who has just discovered how great sex could be. Also, (to himself) Harry didn't expect to live the year out, and knew it was more then likely he was going to end up a corpse. Harry's philosophy of life had been shaped by the hard men of the second platoon: enjoy what you can of life, while you can, for the next roll of dice in the game of life could wind up with you dead in some god-fucked corner of the world. 

Yet, Harry had had that philosophy tempered by the very same pleasure that he had sought. Alice, the woman of eighteen years that had brought him over that pass into manhood, had taught him love was different from the sheer pleasure (no matter how therapeutic) of coupling, that he would know when he felt it. Harry had got the idea she knew of it at first hand, but hadn't pried into her past. To him, Alice was like Hermione: someone smart, witty, and above all else, someone to talk to. 

Then there was Ginny…Harry wondered why he hadn't felt differently before. He had tried rationalizing, and found it was pointless. True, he could delude himself with the notion that the twin events of rescuing her from the Chamber of Secrets coupled with the blinding infatuation of Cho, but the fact remained he himself didn't know. It was times like this he wished his father were around, to ask him about him and Harry's mother. 

Yet, the fact was they weren't, and all he knew was that the last night, as him and Ginny had held each other and talked, Harry had known Ginny was his sun, his moon, and his stars. Harry had remembered a vague Divination lesson about this, yet that was immaterial for in the twilight of the fire, he had felt Ginny's heart beat in her chest, and had felt his.

The two had beat as one, and that was all the evidence Harry had needed of divine favor or whatever it was called. Harry followed his instincts, and his heart.

Without another look, Harry took out the picture of him and Ginny and put it on the opposite corner. The picture of him and the girls of Meg's he put into the envelope, and tossed it into the case, and gently closed the box. Harry then, after taking out his baton and Browning, put the case back into the chest, and closed it. 

Turning, Harry left his room, and didn't once look back at his chest.

                        *          *          *

Hours later, Harry found himself in the cellar of the Honeydukes candy store in Hogsmeade. At the moment, Harry was dressed in his school uniform, but with his black cloak over it, and a bowler (from Moody; Harry had told him he needed it briefly, but Moody had given it to him telling him he had another available to him) pulled low over his scar. One good thing that Harry was bloody grateful for was the fact he looked so normal without his scar visible. 

Harry pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. Quarter to six in the evening. Harry distinctly hoped Ginny had followed the directions he had written in the note, and also hoped Ron and Hermione, along with Fred and George, and other people he was close to were busy. They were more likely to find out and cause trouble then say, Malfoy, or any of the assorted bastards out there. Sad thing was, if that turned out to be the case, it would be a clear cut example of a phrase Harry had heard of in previous years: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Thinking, about Harry decided a quick look would soothe his nerves by seeing what was going on. Pulling out a piece of parchment from his pocket, he activated the Marauder's Map and took a glance. Ron, Hermione, Katrina, and Neville were heading through the grounds back to the school. That was good, as Harry had spent much of the day in their company. Around three, he had said goodbye, telling them Moody and Figg wanted to him to oversee the re-supply of a unit of goblins that was on extended patrol in the mountains around Hogwarts. Now, this was partly true, it was just Harry overestimated the amount of time it was going to take him to be with Moody. All it had involved was a quick hour trip with Moody and Figg using the Chameleon Charm, a charm Moody had shown him a month earlier in which Harry was given for about two hours the ability to blend in with his surroundings, much the same way the lizard did. It wasn't as encompassing as Invisibility cloaks (Harry had been taught that one could vaguely make out the outline of a person by careful examination), but it was cheaper, and unlike a cloak, didn't flap around when flying around at a hundred clicks an hour at treetop level. Harry had found the re-supply mission quite easy, and had rushed off to prepare for his date as soon as Moody told him to take the day off. Harry also had a sneaky suspicion that Moody knew he was off on a date for Moody had had a toothy grin on his face when he wished Harry a good evening; Harry wasn't sure if that was comforting, or worrisome.

Anyhow, after washing, he had taken the secret passage via the hump-backed witch, and once in the cellar of Honeydukes, had waited patiently for Ginny to show up. According to plan, Ginny would, about an hour after he left, say she had an assignment to turn in for Potions, and had to go check the state of how it was being fermented. Once there, she would get her cloak (one of the rules that had been implemented had been for security reasons had been for Hogwarts students to be in uniform whenever they were in Hogsmeade) and then wait for an hour. Afterwards, she would make her way clandestinely back into Hogsmeade via the secret passage Harry had described to her. Harry only hoped he hadn't made the plan too complicated.

Looking for Ginny on the map, Harry smiled, for Ginny was making her way down the passage towards the Hogsmeade candy store at a quick pace. He laughed slightly for the figure slowed briefly, with the notation that she had tripped but hadn't fallen down. 

Moving out of sight behind a group of boxes, Harry watched the path that lead from the trapdoor to the rest of the cellar, and from there up into the main store. Taking a last look at the map, Harry saw that Ginny was close to the door. He closed the map, put it back into his pocket next to his wand, and leaned back into the shadows and waited. Sure enough, within a minute, Harry saw Ginny cautiously look around from the corner around the trapdoor, and headed towards the staircase. Silently, Harry snuck up behind Ginny, and covered her mouth with his hand, and whispered into her ear, "Guess who?" Harry could feel her giggle, and once he was sure she wouldn't squeal, he pulled his hand away. Ginny turned and slapped his chest, laughing quietly, "What was that for?" Harry grinned, "Surprised you didn't I?" Ginny laughed and threw her arms around him, and in the cellar, the two embraced.

Harry suddenly heard a noise, and with Ginny in his arms pulled her towards a secluded alcove behind some crates out of sight from the staircase. Putting a finger to his lips, Ginny remained quiet and watched with Harry as a large burly man came by, rummaged through a crate across from them, and went back up the stairs. Harry waited until he heard the steps fade, and grinned to Ginny, "Close eh?" Ginny smiled and asked, "And how do we get out of here?" Harry smiled, and gently took her in hand, pulling up the hood of her cloak. Together, they crept up the stairs, and ducked behind the counter, since the proprietor and her helpers were out rapidly refilling several of the chocolate racks. Harry waited until the coast was clear, then he, with Ginny's hand firmly entwined with his, got up and calmly walked towards one of the displays. With the winter weather, they weren't noticed as they walked out of Honeydukes and into one of the side alleys of Hogsmeade. 

Harry moved his arm so that he could draw Ginny closer to him. Ginny asked, "So where are we going, Harry?" Smiling, Harry leaned towards her, and kissed her on the forehead. "A nice restaurant, where you are Miss Snow, and I'm Mr. Tippet. The owner is this kindly old woman who maintains these dark booths lit only by a candle or two, a place where we can have some privacy." Ginny smiled up at Harry shyly, and answered, "Hmm…I like that, Harry." Laughing the two of them strode through the darkening side streets of Hogsmeade. About a half block away, Harry stopped in front of a small building from which hung a sign showing a prancing deer with the name _Bucks Tavern_. Harry opened the door, and let Ginny go in first. Harry held back as he quickly took a Band-Aid from his pocket, and put it over his scar. If anyone asked, Harry was going to tell them he had banged his head open and gashed it, though with a bit of luck no one would notice.

Entering, Harry was gladdened to see the place was dimly lit from a series of candles in the air, which smelled pleasantly of wood, vanilla, and fresh baked bread. It was a small place, consisting of a bar, some tables in front (filled with an assortment of characters, most of them eating or drinking), and a series of secluded booths in the back. Looking around, Harry put his hat under his arm and went over to the bar, where a tall, gangly, woman was serving drinks to the patrons (a wide sort, including off-duty goblins, dwarves, and assorted wizards). "Hello, Ms. Thomas, is the table I reserved ready?" The woman looked up, and smiled, "Of course it is Mr. Tippet. This way, please." She led them to a darkened corner where only a candelabra burned, giving the surrounding area a light glow. There were two plates, a basket of fresh baked dinner rolls, a light salad, and a small bucket of ice with a bottle of wine (which Harry had modified by mixing it liberally with water so that only it was only ten percent wine, giving it a taste more like a sweet grape juice) in it. 

Harry pulled out a chair for Ginny, and once they were seated, Ms. Thomas asked them, "So what will it be?" Harry asked, "What's the house special?" "Chicken Cordon Bleu, or Jaeger Schnitzel. French or German" Harry turned to Ginny, "Your choice dear." Ginny thought for a moment, and asked for the chicken, which Harry likewise agreed to. Ms. Thomas told them they would be served in a few minutes, and told them to try out the salad. With that, she turned and walked away with their order.

As soon as the hostess left, Ginny looked over at Harry and told him, in an impressed tone, "Wow, Harry, you really took a lot of effort into this." She looked over at the wine, and asked, "Tell me Harry, what does this taste like?" Harry, not quite ready to tell her he had set this whole date up on the cuff, smiled at Ginny and took it out of the bucket. Opening it, he looked over at her and asked, "Only one to find out. A lot like kissing I suppose." Ginny laughed the laugh that Harry found so intoxicating, and nodded, "True, true…Pour me a small glass then." Harry poured one, and then another. Sliding one over, Harry clinked his against hers and said, "To all couples out there." Ginny murmured, "To all couples." They drank the sweet wine, and Harry looked over at Ginny, who smiled and said, "This is so…sweet." 

"Like you. Sweet, and tender and…"

Ginny laughed again, and Harry did too as he saw Ginny started to blush as red as her hair.

Together, they started into the salad and dinner rolls, engaging in the small talk that couples get to know each other with. Harry told of the light-hearted moments he had had with the Dursleys, and then with more confidence of his early years at Hogwarts.

"You know, I remembering hearing you the first time I was on the Hogwarts train, telling your mom you wanted to see me."  
  


"Oh, I forgot all about that!" Ginny laughed, "I thought you were pretty handsome before, but that was like icing on a cake. You were…well…you." She shrugged sheepishly. Harry had to laugh, for as he remembered himself as an eleven year old, it was with oversized ancient clothes, and a set of very messy hair. Indeed, the first really decent set of clothes and shoes he had ever owned were his Hogwarts robes/uniforms.

The main course arrived and during this, Ginny got to talking of her life, of the tight-knitted family that was the Weasleys, remembering the times where she had helped Fred and George in their early experiments. Harry almost choked as she told of one occasion over one summer where the twins had put a color charm on Percy's glasses, ensuring that every time he put them on, his hair turned platinum…or blue, or about fifty-two other colors. Harry asked of her friends, and besides the usual people, Ginny told him of another he hadn't heard of.

"You know Luna Lovegood, Harry?"

"No, can't say I do. Ravenclaw though isn't she?"

"Yes, but she really is a decent sort. Strange sense of humor, but a decent sort."

"Sounds like Fred or George there."

Soon, the main course was over, and they settled down to talking over the wine when Ginny asked a question Harry had been expecting all night.

"Harry?"  
  
"Yes, Ginny?"

"Am I the first girl you have ever…" She trailed off and looked at him sheepishly

Harry looked up from the glass of wine from which he sipped. During the course of the meal, Harry and Ginny had consumed only about a quarter of the bottle, and there was still much left. Looking into it, Harry decided to go the Longbottom way: honesty.

"The first girl I have ever dated? Yes, but not the first I've kissed, or…" Harry paused for a second before continuing, "been intimate with."

"Oh?"

"Tell me, Ginny, did you hear of Neville's story?"

"Yes, he went with some friends and purchased the services of a group of scarlet women during the summertime. A friend of his uncle's arranged the whole thing."

"I was one of those friends, and it was my Uncle Alex, Professor Evans who arranged the whole thing for me to learn all about women from the ten girls at this one place in London. One of them became a friend of mine, almost like Hermione, but that was the extent of it." Harry found that despite his best efforts, his voice came out shaking slightly with fear. The fear of rejection, the fear of Ginny getting angry, at the whole myriad array of things that tortured him; Harry held his breath as he waited for her to answer.

What happened next surprised Harry: Ginny laughed. She took a moment to stop, and then spoke, "You think I'll be disgusted with you over this?" Harry could only nod. Ginny shook her head, and answered "Harry I knew you meant it when you said you loved me last night. Nothing will change that, as I know you are too much of a nice man to do anything like that if you could help it. I won't ask you again of your past if you want." She had put her hand on his during the conversation, and Harry could feel the warmth and tenderness of her hand. Filled with emotion, he took his other hand, and clasped it, so that each of their hands was in the others. Looking into her eyes, Harry spoke hoarsely, speaking from the depths of his soul and being, not knowing that he was letting within him the young man who had known so very little warmth and love over the years speak, "Ginny, I love you, now and forever. What I did in the past is in the past, and I will never betray you or hurt you. Can you believe me?" Ginny leaned over and kissed him on his lips. Harry could taste the wine, and listened as she murmured in his ear, "Yes Harry, as I love you too, now and forever, always." 

 They remained like that for a few minutes, Ginny with her head on his shoulder until Harry, ever mindful of the time, mentioned to Ginny, "We should be going back now." Ginny nodded sadly, and got up. Harry did likewise, and put a stack of twenty Galleons on the table. With their hands together, they walked the dark streets back to the grounds, where Harry led her through the shadows almost to the main entrance, and once there Harry drew her close to him in the shadow of the steps. Ginny kissed him on the lips, and Harry reveled in the feeling of it. They broke off only as they could hear footsteps and other students in the distance. "I love you," Harry said one more time. Ginny replied, "I'll see you tomorrow night. You tell me where and when." Harry nodded, and motioned for Ginny to run on ahead. 

Ginny did so, and Harry watched from the shadows as she bounded up the steps, and into the school. As he made his way back to Hogsmeade, intending on taking the secret tunnel back (no use being seen even using the same entrance as Ginny; the number of gossips and rumor mongers out there was too great) a content smile played on Harry's lips.


	20. Chapter XX: SERE and Occlumency

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Speaking of which, I believe I said in one of my earlier chapters that I was going to say as close to canon as possible. Now, I realize writing an AU fanfic of a year that has already been covered I shouldn't be too concerned in regards to canon, yet nonetheless I am. It is for that reason I've decided to incorporate elements of Book V along with the outline of events I drew up for my work. Hopefully, this won't disappoint people but I'm sure some of you may have noticed already some details from Bk. V. I won't say what they are, since I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, so just stay alert and read Book V as soon as possible to figure out where canon and fanfic meet. To be quite truthful, there are portions where my work and canon can dovetail quite easily and well, and I intend on using them.

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XX: S.E.R.E. and Occlumency 

The morning of the 1st of November found Harry sitting at a small table in the back corner of the Hog's Head, sipping a very rancid cup of Earl Gray tea. Since it was a school week, Harry had on his school robes, but wore over it his cloak, and had a bandage covering his scar. Morning briefing had been rather depressing, as Harry finally learned the full details of Hagrid's mission with Madame Maxine to the Giants in Russia. To say that the mission had been a waste of time would be a vast understatement; to call it a disastrous setback would be viewing it in more even terms.

Harry had studied up a bit about Giants, and found out that they were very disorganized, almost animal-like in their behavior. Even though he had taken his reading dispassionately (Harry knew full well from personal experience that all writing has it's own coloring to it, no mater how fair the writer tries to be), it was obvious Voldemort had known what he was doing. Hagrid and Madame Maxine had established contact, and even gotten friendly to the point an alliance appeared to be likely via the use of gifts and flattery with the chief of the giants. Which was when McNair, the Death Eater in the Department of Magical Creatures, had shown up, and got a fellow giant to launch a coup, and killed the chief. This new giant had sent Maxine and Hagrid packing (with the two of them barely escaping with their lives), and had then launched a purge of all giants who seemed taken with the idea of an alliance with the wizard world.

Apparently, all Hagrid's mission, on Dumbledore's orders, had accomplished was make the giants an even greater endangered species then they previously were, and let the few survivors out there know that there were other wizards besides the Death Eaters who wished friendship. The only silver lining in the whole black cloud had been the fact that with the giants so fragmented killing each other off they wouldn't be of much usage to Voldemort (or to them either) as well as the more long-term seed of friendship that had been planted. Beyond this, there was no other real news for Harry, though that alone had been black enough.

Yet, despite the bad news, the last several days were amongst the happiest Harry had ever had due to one person: Ginny. His days were the usual of school and training, but once the night began, it was his. Or rather, his and Ginny's as they did as much together as any couple could manage under their circumstances. Harry had had a quiet word with Bladvak, and Ironhammer, telling them that he was seeing someone, so if it wasn't too much trouble to 'hide' his icon on the War Room map from roughly 2200 to 0500 hours every night. They had quite understood, and had informed him not to worry, that his secrets wouldn't be divulged.

Harry and Ginny, easily evading the eavesdropping of their peers and the faculty and now not having to be spied upon by the security forces, enjoyed their time together. Weeknights, they would go and walk the grounds, talking, learning of each other. When they kissed, or held each other in each other's arms, it was usually under the lone oak tree near the lake. Despite the weather (it had started turning cold after the ball), or perhaps because of it, Harry and Ginny would spend much time just looking and snuggling with each other, lying beneath the branches of the oak wrapped Harry's cloak. It was peaceful, and contenting to Harry. During the weekends, Harry would take Ginny out to eat at _Buck's Tavern_, in Hogsmeade, where Ms. Thomas tended to run a tight restaurant, and kept a tight lip, too, about just who her customers were.    

Harry was truly happy and content, for here was a girl whom he trusted and talked to without hesitation once he had gotten over that one hurdle. Truth be told, he was quite glad now that that had been taken care of in the beginning, so that there weren't any that could now leave him uncomfortable. 

During the daytime, Ginny would spend as much time with him, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Katrina, and Doc as possible. It was during this time she introduced Harry and the rest to Luna Lovegood, a brown-blonde haired girl with a sense of humor stranger then that of the twins. Yet, Harry found himself liking her as much as Ginny did for though she was apparently treated as something of an oddball by the rest of her classmates (like Cho, Luna was of House Ravenclaw), Harry found she was quite the character, endearing in her own wacky way. Doc, in particular, seemed quite taken with her, taking her out to town almost as often as Neville took Katrina, and Ron, Hermione. 

To Harry, though, it was also a bonus in his eyes that she didn't treat him as either a murderer, or a glory-hunting bastard, the way much of the rest of the school outside of his friends treated him.

            *          *          *          

Harry pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. 0755. It was close enough to eight that he pulled out a chocolate frog, unwrapped it, and ate it. Looking down at the card, he saw it was a new one showing the Minister of Magic: Cornelius Fudge. Harry snorted in derision, and tossed it aside. After the previous year, (as well as most of this year) Harry had no respect and all contempt for the man. 

"Say, have you found an Albus Dumbledore card lately? In your chocolate frogs I mean?" Harry turned, and saw that it was Remus Lupin, wearing his usual threadbare clothes and wizard robes. His cloak was blue black, and in the band of the wizard hat he wore was an ostrich feather. Next to him was a large black dog. 

Harry smiled and answered, "Loads of them sir. If you could show me your room, I'll be glad to trade with you."

Remus smiled, "Of course. Please follow my dog Padfoot and I…"Harry leaned over and scratched behind the black dog's ears. Getting up, he followed Remus and into one of the backrooms which was little more then a space with a drawer, a bathroom (no tub, just a toilet, sink, and shower stall), and a bed. While it wasn't filthy, it wasn't exactly inviting either, with gray, cracked tiles, and the fact one of the windows was patched up with tape. Harry took all of this in as he sat down on the bed. 

Remus pulled out his wand, closed and magically locked the door, and then cast the silencing spell. It was only then that the dog transfigured into the man Harry knew as his Godfather, and one of perhaps two (three counting Dudley) members of his family he could say he gave a damn about: Sirius Black. Black was grinning, as he came up and embraced him. Slapping him on the back, Sirius smiled, "You've grown taller lad, and wiry too." Harry laughed and went over to Remus, "Been a while, Remus." 

"Indeed it has. Glad to see you're looking fine and fit."

Harry looked at the two of them and asked, "So, can you guys tell me just what the hell you've been up to for the past several months? Since about, what, July?" Remus and Sirius looked at each other, and Remus shrugged, "Can't tell you precisely what we were doing, but we were operating down south, in Belize." 

"Alex's old haunts right?"

"Yeah, how'd you figure that out Harry."

"I remember last year, when Sirius was away, he used these really colorful birds in place of owls. I looked them up in a book and found out that they are a species of toucans found in Central America. Since Alex told me he used to live in retirement in Belize, I put the two together. Just answer me this, Sirius, how did you know to find him after you broke out of Azkaban?"

Sirius shrugged, "I saw a muggle newspaper clipping of the _Business Times_, you know the muggle business newspaper, naming him as a member of Struan's Tobacco in Belize, and it had a photograph of him. So, once I was finished at Hogwarts and Wormtail escaped, I didn't have much else to do except take Buckbeak down south."

"Speaking of which, where is he?"

Sirius got up and went over to the traveling bag that resided in one corner of the room. Pulling out a bag of crisps, he pulled one out, ate it, and held the bag out to Harry who refused. He said, "Well, he's here in London over at the Order's main headquarters, where me and Remus have been reassigned to." Sirius didn't sound too happy about, and it took Harry a moment to remember the order he was talking about was the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's faction fighting the Voldemort. 

"So what are you two doing, or is that on a need to know basis as well?"

"I'll be running the headquarters in London, while Remus is part of this protective detail we have based there."

"Where is the headquarters, and protecting what?"

"Can't tell you either yet, but we will eventually. Now, how was the ball?" Harry could tell by Sirius's tone that the conversation was over. Shrugging, he told him, "I went alone."

Sirius looked shocked for a minute, "You went alone? But…"

"Hard asking a girl out when about seventy five percent think you're either a deranged lunatic, a braggart, a murderer or a combination of all of the above." This came out rather lightly, as Harry was still on cloud nine after the previous evening with Ginny. They had sat side by side, enjoying each other's warmth, their backs to the oak tree… 

Remus looked over at him, "Alex told us last night that you asked to go alone, but you seemed rather unhappy about the whole thing then." He made it a question, and Harry wondered how much he should tell them, and started to speak, "Well, I asked this one girl out, one who I had a crush on since…" In an emotionless tone Harry told them of how Cho had slapped him, and told him off due to Diggory's death. Sirius exclaimed as Harry related what she said with, "What the hell is she talking about! You had about as much to do with that as…" 

"Sirius shut up and let Harry finish."

Harry stopped and shrugged, "Nothing much to finish. I went alone and she went with Draco Malfoy. All I can say was that watching her with Malfoy was like having a blindfold removed, and showing just how silly my crush was." Harry paused, and decided to drop the bombshell. 

"Tell me, Sirius, Remus, what would you say if I told you I think, I err… I think I'm in love"

Harry's godfather and his friend were silent, and then both of them laughed. Sirius clapped him on the back, and asked, "Well, at your age, any girl who doesn't look too bad is someone to fall in love…"

"I'm not joking, Sirius. You don't think I know the difference between wanting to fuck a girl and loving one?" Harry had got up and was angry. Sirius and Remus stopped laughing, and looked at each other. Remus cleared his throat, and said to Sirius, "Wow, just like his father. You remember that time we used to kid around with him about Lilly?" Sirius smiled, "Yeah, and he would get almost as angry as Harry over there." He asked Harry, "Are you…sure Harry? I mean, are you positive that this is the genuine article, and not another one of your crushes there?"

Harry sat back down and nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure, Sirius. When I was holding her in my arms, I never felt so…happy…and content as I have ever felt before." Glancing at them, he saw their eyes were riveted on him and stopped, staring back. Sirius broke the silence, smiling, and asking "Harry, I'm happy for you. Want to talk about her?" Harry knew Sirius didn't know how much he wanted to, but he had said he was going to keep it a secret, even from those close to him. The last thing Harry wanted was for Ginny and him to be found out, for then their relationship would be just one more weapon to be used against him

Harry shook his head, "I can't tell you her name, as we're keeping it secret, but you'll like her. She's feisty, and sweet." Sirius smiled, "Smart, keeping it a secret, just make sure you don't reveal that secret in the most spectacular way possible."

"What's that?"

"Your girl winds up being the first Hogwarts student in years having a big belly with a baby in it."

Harry laughed, and was gladdened to see his godfather back.

            *          *          *

Harry returned to school with about five minutes to spare, Sirius and Remus having sent him back with the promise that Remus would bring him to see Sirius again soon, maybe even as early as the next weekend. Harry was looking forward to this, though not as much as his nightly excursions with Ginny. Since it was a day where he had History of Magic and Divination, Harry was in an especially good mood (Professor Trewlaney liked the predictions Harry made, especially since they were some of the darkest in the class) and went through his courses quickly and confidentially, feeling as though he could take on the world and win. 

As the bell rang, though, Alex held Harry back, and told him to come to the Potions classroom for his nightly Auror training. Harry was slightly mystified, but obeyed, and waited impatiently through dinner for the time to roll by. After telling his friends at the table (Ginny included) that he was going to be coming back around one in the morning after a training exercise, (Harry had worked out a code with Ginny about how he was going to be spending his evenings. If he were going to be able to meet her, he would say he was going to be on a nighttime patrol with Moody. Should he be unable to meet her, he would say he was on a training exercise. It was a simple and foolproof system that they had worked out.), Harry strode towards Snape's dungeon, where he went in to find only his uncle and Snape.

Alex waved Harry over, and told him, "Sit lad, and make yourself comfortable." Snape smiled grimly; despite the armed truce between him and Neville, Harry was still fair game, though his usual games were rather restrained, and he hadn't deliberately failed any assignment of his, things were still tense. Though considering what had happened in previous years, this was downright welcome to Harry.

Snape coldly spoke, "Do sit, and pay attention Potter."

Harry sat down on one of the chairs, and looked at his uncle. Alex, once he was sure he had Harry's attention, began. "Harry, do you know the acronym S.E.R.E.?" pronouncing it seer. Harry nodded, "Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape, sir." Nodding in approval, Alex continued, "Harry one of the most difficult portions of an Auror's training is what is called S.E.R.E. in the muggle world. Basically, what it calls for is to be subjected to the Cruciatus curse, sundry truth serums, and Legilimancy." Seeing the questioning look on Harry's face, Alex explained, "The art of reading people's thoughts via magical means, Harry. Countering it is under Occlumency, which…"

"Which I have been given the onerous task of teaching you, Potter, by the Headmaster." Snape joined in. This was the first time Harry had heard of either subject of magic, but he wasn't surprised, for Harry knew eleven years of ignorance of the magical world ensured he was a babe in the woods when it came to magic. "Very well, anything else?" 

"Yes, Harry. I'll be teaching you how to condition yourself against interrogations using muggle techniques, both soft and heavy. Now, you're probably wondering why we are putting you through this…"

"The thought has crossed my mind, yes."

"Harry, you know the Dark Lord has, to put it bluntly, a hard-on for you for years. Using the psych profile I had drawn up over the summer time by this muggle psychiatrist I know from my dealing in Latin America it indicates…" Alex pulled forth a manila folder from his desk and began to read. " 'The subject is an individual of great intelligence coupled with vast feelings of inferiority due to years of mental, and possible physical/sexual abuse. Subject will therefore, should he feel if he has been bested, the urge to not only defeat in detail and length, but to humiliate the target of he feels did so.' Now that sounds like the Dark Lord does it not?"

Harry nodded, and listened as Snape asked harshly, "What muggle did you impart knowledge of our world on? Did you have leave of your senses then?"

"Relax, Snape, the good doctor whom I'm referring to is quite like Sirius Black: brilliant, but on the run from the law. Why the Americans have a multi-million dollar reward for the man, and I think the man sees no need to draw attention to himself."

"What was his crime?"

"Killed a bunch of annoying people, and ate parts of several of them."

"Hmm…" Snape seemed to be digesting this last bit of information.

"Anyhow, Harry, the point I'm making is this: it is more likely you will be captured, tortured and interrogated before a formal execution instead of being killed out of hand. With the information you have in your mind, you are a source that we cannot afford to lose. Therefore, we are going to condition you to withstand interrogation for as long as you are able."

Snape was glaring at Harry coldly. Harry knew why: _I wouldn't be too thrilled either if I knew my cover, and thus my life and that of my daughter's, depended on someone whose guts I hated_.

Alex got up and went to the blackboard, where he wrote the number 48 on it. "Forty-eight hours is how long it should take under optimal conditions for you to be located and a rescue operation conducted. It is also the average length of time a man, with adequate training and conditioning, last under torture and constant interrogation. However, the exact length a person can withstand such deprivation varies from one person to another. There is one constant, however: everyone breaks. The question is just how much they will extract from you, and how much they believe what you tell them."

Snape entered, "Your first lessons will be in regards to Potions. There is only one potion that can be used to defeat any and all truth serums, to include Veritaserum, and muggle chemical based compounds such as sodium pentothal. It is called Nullificaserum, and is relatively easy to brew. There is only one side-effect, which I might add you need not concern yourself with, but I shall tell you nonetheless."

Snape grinned skull-like. "Any time you come into contact with a truth potion of any form will cause your mind to dissolve into madness, or cause you to die. Either option seems quite worthwhile to my tastes, but I digress…" With that, Snape (after acidly informing Harry to pull out parchment and quill and to take careful notes) detailed the procedures to brew the Nullificaserum, which was actually easier to make then the Polyjuice potion (a potion used to alter one's appearance to that of someone else, and was quite dangerous to make; which was why Harry, Ron, and Hermione had brewed it Moaning Myrtle's bathroom back when they were second years). The potion was almost a poison of sorts, the trigger of its deadly effects being contact with a truth serum of any sort. Its effects lasted up to 72 hours. 

"Sir, one question."

"Yes, Potter, what is it?"

"How can you tell if someone has been taking the potion?"

"Simple, take a drop of black ink and stain it on a fingertip. If the ink turns green, then the subject has taken the potion. The intensity of the color also demonstrates how long ago it occurred as well, as the more green the color it means the potion was taken recently."

Following this, Alex gave a lesson on muggle interrogation techniques. It was harsh, blunt and to the point. "Harry there is only rule with interrogations. Lie, and keep lying as long as you can. Stick to your lie, and they will eventually believe you. The trick, of course, is to be able to withstand what they throw at you as you keep your lie straight, for only if they are sure you are truthful will they stop." Alex began to describe some of the methods that could be used to make him talk.

After another hour in which Alex described the techniques of soft interrogation (sleep deprivation, constant questioning, deprivation of water and food, usage of truth serums, etc.) and hard interrogation (physical torture of varying degrees to include electrical shock, mutilation, and beatings), Snape began teaching Occlumency. Harry wasn't surprised to learn that the wizard world had a form of mind reading, even though it depended heavily on time and space. Snape told him not to be stupid, that the mind wasn't like a book, and that Legilimancy called for the extraction of memories and emotions from the mind. Considering a lot could be learned from even a minute piece of information, Harry _was_ surprised he hadn't been taught this earlier.

Harry and Snape had paired off, Snape telling Harry to try and empty his mind, to block Snape's intrusion into the deepest recesses of his mind. Attempting to do so, Harry felt memories both good and bad come up in his mind. Snapshots, like a slide show gone crazy appeared, only with the attachment of the emotions Harry had felt then. 

The memories were sweet and stung, like a glass of pink lemonade with ice and gin…

Five-year-old Harry watching his cousin riding a bicycle, feeling a jealousy nigh unbearable… 

Nine-year-old Harry scurrying up a tree, his 'family' laughing at him as a slavering bulldog chased him…

Eleven-year-old Harry, the joy he had once he found out he was going to Hogwarts…

Fourteen-year-old Harry asking out, and being burned down, by Cho, hating Cedric Diggory for it…

Fifteen-year-old Harry and eighteen (_or was it nineteen?_ Harry wasn't sure)-year-old Alice, on the bed at Meg's, feeling passion and release like he never had felt before…

_Not this you bastard, _Harry screamed in his mind. His vision cleared, and he found himself gasping for breath, kneeling on the floor while Snape rubbed his wrist, an angry red welt on his wrist. 

After asking Harry if he had planned on hitting him with a Stinging hex (as well as the closet thing to a complement Snape had ever given Harry, "Better then expected for your first time") 

The second time was almost like the first, only shorter…

Four-year-old Harry, tears on his face after a beating by Dudley, vowing he would never cry again so long as he was under their roof…

Seven-year-old Harry, curiosity and fear and excitement as he played Doctor and Patient with a girl his age behind the school, Dudley and his friends almost finding him…

Thirteen-year old Harry, full of anger and rage at Snape under the Shrieking Shack, Sirius's life in the balance…

Fifteen-year-old Harry, feeling nothing as he embraced the stinking, bleeding corpse of the Irish terrorist close to him as Second Platoon vivisected the enemy column, watching with slight awe as Neville jumped the hedge and ran into the kill zone, tossing Harry his rifle…

This time Harry must have shot a counter-curse of some sort, for now Harry could see images not of his own in his head. He assumed they were Snape's…they showed a dark-haired boy crying in a corner whilst a man shouted at a woman…a greasy haired teen shooting down flies with his wand…the laughter of a girl as the same boy struggled with a broom.

Snape called it off this time, saying, "That was…unexpected, but nonetheless effective, your use of the Shield Charm. Now, empty your mind of emotion, and you will be better able to withstand it."

"White wall, Harry, think white walls." Alex spoke from his chair in the corner of the classroom.

Harry did so, and improved as the discipline instilled in him during the summer time kicked in. Knowing that his life (more importantly, that of Ginny, and his friends and family) might one day depend on it. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to smother the thought, it was still there: no matter how hard he tried to decipher the inner workings of the man called Severus Snape (_"The first rule of war is to know your enemy, and by knowing him, you will be able to defeat him", Alex had told him over the summer_. _They had been talking of the works of Sun Tzhu and Sun Pin, two of the seven most formidable writers of strategy in ancient China_), Harry found something new that shattered the paradigm he had placed the man in.

Severus Snape…was he friend, foe, or neither?


	21. Chapter XXI: Vengeance of the Weasleys

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Speaking of which, I believe I said in one of my earlier chapters that I was going to say as close to canon as possible. Now, I realize writing an AU fanfic of a year that has already been covered I shouldn't be too concerned in regards to canon, yet nonetheless I am. It is for that reason I've decided to incorporate elements of Book V along with the outline of events I drew up for my work. Hopefully, this won't disappoint people but I'm sure some of you may have noticed already some details from Bk. V. I won't say what they are, since I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, so just stay alert and read Book V as soon as possible to figure out where canon and fanfic meet. To be quite truthful, there are portions where my work and canon can dovetail quite easily and well, and I intend on using them.

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Warning: Chapter has talk of VD (STDs) and crude humor, along with the sundry bad language. Viewer discretion advised, etc. 

Chapter XXI: Vengeance of the Weasleys 

Harry awoke the next morning with a headache after a dreamless sleep and went to wash. After the session in the Potions classroom, Harry had showered, and crashed out as soon as he hit the bed. Yet, the analytical part of his mind was wondering if Voldemort knew of the connection between them, for Harry hadn't had anything concrete in his dreams in a long time outside of the nightmares, and those had stopped a while back. While part of Harry was glad that Voldemort might be too busy concentrating on Harry prying into his thoughts, Harry hoped it worked both ways. That Voldemort wouldn't see his memories of the summer…or the present moments he was having with Ginny.

Leaning under the showerhead, Harry practiced emptying his mind of thought, and emotion. This wasn't just for Occlumency; wand-less magic required much the same thing. He did this for about thirty minutes before he shut the water off.

Another ten minutes later, Harry went over to the War Room where the morning briefing was over rather quickly, as the only thing that was happening was the first Quidditch games were to be played within the week. Ironhammer was all in a lather to try out a series of new charm detection equipment on the broomsticks before the match, and Alex was apparently quite impressed with the Weasley twins during their detentions with him, for he declared during the meeting that the two would be working for him on a series of projects, and that any discipline actions against them would be done by him and him alone.

McGonagall, who had been sitting in on the briefing that morning with Figg, Alex, and Snape (Moody had had to make a trip to London) asked, "Just what precisely have those two created that you want them working on for you, and with the indirect blessing of the school?"

Alex grinned, and pulled what looked a stethoscope without the metal disk, and said, "This is one of their more…peaceful inventions. It's the magical equivalent of a boom microphone, and allows people to listen in to conversations to be listened in on without having to be directly at or near the conversation. I myself tested them out last night." He smiled, "Amazing some of the things that are said about the faculty in places like the boy's washroom, and the quidditch locker room."

Harry was impressed with them, and was gladdened when he was handed one by Alex. Putting on the earpieces, Harry moved the ends towards the outside door, and could hear the faint noises of people arising and getting ready for the day. A smile came over his face as he could see the usages of these devices.

After that, he left the meeting and was heading over to breakfast when he heard a whisper from one of the corners. "Harry?" Turning, he saw it was a very unhappy looking Neville Longbottom, and Colin Creevey, who seemed to be ashamed and embarrassed. "Yeah, Nev, what's up?"

"Harry," Neville began, "you were better then I was when it came to medicine and first aid back when we were in Wales, right?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"Colin here came to me saying he was having this strange rash, and…other problems. From the symptoms, it sounds like something I want to ask you about."

"All right the, where's the rash?"

"Colin, you tell Harry."

Colin looked at his feet and said, "My stomach, legs, and…" Colin seemed to have lost his voice, and trailed off.

Harry suddenly had a sneaky suspicion of what was ailing Mr. Creevey. Without another word, he grabbed him by the shoulder, and marched him to the nearest bathroom, where he had Neville watch the door before he turned to Colin and told him curtly, "All right, drop your trousers." Creevey looked up at him shocked. Harry scowled, "What's the matter with you, Creevey? If you want me to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you, drop them. You worried I swing towards boys? Don't. I swing one way and one way only, and you, sir, are not the way." Colin grimaced, and unbuttoned and lowered his trousers.

Taking one look, Harry had to squint, to make sure he was seeing correctly, hoping for Creevey's sake he wasn't. Apparently he was seeing correctly for Neville started laughing. "Colin, you shit, you got the clap!" Harry turned and said to Neville, "Nev, stuff it." Turning back to Creevey, he ordered him, "All right, pull them back up." Harry felt the urge to vomit after having seen the reddened mess and greenish puss that was the mess of Colin's genitalia. Creevey did so and asked, "Uh, Harry what have I got?" Harry looked at him coolly and then said, "Colin, before I answer that I need some more answers. Now: it hurt real bad when you piss?"

"Yeah, like…"

"A lot of pus comes out of your dick?"

"Er…yeah."

"Clear or green or both?"

"Just green."

Harry sighed, and wiped his glasses. Shaking his head, he told him, "Colin, what you have is a really bad case of the clap, also known as gonorrhea." Colin looked at him blankly, and Harry decided the soft touch wouldn't do. He scowled, and added icily, "It means your dick will dissolve from the inside out, you prat!" This, while it might not have been entirely the truth, was close enough, and it did its purpose of getting Colin's attention. Colin looked worried, and yelled to Neville shrilly, "I thought you said he knew how to cure me!" Neville looked at him and answered scathingly, "All I said was he was better at healing then I was. Tell me, do you even know how you get gonorrhea?"

"No"

"Let me ask you this then Colin, and do give me an honest answer. How many women have you fucked within, oh, the last three months?"

Harry could swear he could hear the gears turning in Colin's brain. After a minute of thought, he said, "As many as you." Neville gave a low whistle and Harry looked at Colin, thinking, _dumb shit would fuck the crack of dawn if given half a chance_…_Course, before Gin I probably was much the same way!_

Harry asked Colin, "Tell me, how often have you used anti-VD charms and/or the Eros potion?"

No light bulb. Harry asked again, "How about condoms, you know, rubbers and the lot?"

Still no light bulb. Harry started to get pissed and yelled at Colin, "You fucking dolt! If you want to sleep around, then you have to wear protection, both for your own and the girl's sake!" 

"What's going on, Harry?" Harry could feel a migraine approaching as he heard the sound of Fred's voice asking in curiosity. Turning, he was about to tell something, anything to ensure they didn't find out about Creevey's situation (God knew what the twins were going to use with it) but Neville blurted out, "Colin's got gonorrhea, and it looks like his dick will fall off." Fred looked at Colin, and said, "Really?" George came in, and now Harry was wondering if putting Neville as door guard was such a good thing when he could have, should have, probably wedged it shut using one of the soap bars at the sink.

George asked, "What's wrong?" Fred answered, "Colin over there has a case of gonorrhea, whatever that is." George looked over at Harry and asked, "What is that?" Harry was starting to wonder if the Wizard World taught sex ed.; it was rapidly appearing not to be the case. Just as he was about to explain, Colin asked Harry, "So what can I do, Harry?" 

Harry answered Colin first, "The muggle cure is two weeks or so of tetracycline, this super antibiotic out there, but here in the wizard world…I'll have to talk to my uncle, so go breakfast, and try not to take a piss for a while." Looking glum, Colin hurriedly exited the bathroom, and Fred asked, "Care to tell me what that dumb bastard has?" Harry didn't want to give even the slightest bit away to the twins (for all he knew they were still actively plotting vengeance on Creevey; Doc Detibedeux, who had been drawn into some of twin's planning, said their efforts were reminiscent of the attempts on the life of Fidel Castro: part genius, part macabre, and all lunacy.), but shrugged and told them as briefly and dispassionately as he could what gonorrhea was and what damage it caused. 

Fred and George looked at each other, and Fred asked, "So…One of the symptoms is that it hurts when he takes a piss, eh?"

Harry was starting to get suspicious as the twins looked as though Christmas came early. "Yeah, it supposed to hurt as though he were pissing pins and needles, but I can't say as I was always careful enough to take a draught of Eros before I had any women."

Fred and George were all smiles, and hurried out of the bathroom. Harry looked at Neville and said, "I shudder to think what they are going to do." Neville shrugged, "That's Creevey's fuck-up for dicking another girl while he was going out with Ginny. She's too nice of a girl to be treated that way…" Cocking his head, he asked Harry inquisitively, "You know, why don't you ask her out? She's lonely, and I think she still has that crush on you…" Harry shook his head, and answered, "As I already told everyone, me and her being an item is the fastest way to get her killed. Shit! She's probably already in the death seat as it is considering she's Ron's sister, and he's a friend of mine." Wanting to put that bit of conversation away as soon as possible, he asked Neville sarcastically, "No doubt it was a brilliant idea to let Fred, and George know about his little problem, eh?"

Neville laughed, "I wouldn't say it was little, I mean did you see how far that rash was going?"

Harry groaned and shook his head. The migraine was starting to hit was a vengeance as he told Neville he was going over to see his uncle and was going to skip breakfast. Neville told him he would see him in class, and didn't say he blamed him for skipping breakfast after seeing Colin's clap.

Leaving, Harry went up to the History of Magic classroom, where he found his uncle, wearing his trademark suit and Gryffindor tie, reading several scrolls of parchment. "Hey, Harry. What brings up here so early?" Alex asked, a smile on his face as he sipped from a cup of tea. Harry asked, "Uncle, you got any tetracycline?" Alex frowned, "You got the clap, Harry? Or the pox?" Harry shook his head furiously, "No, no, not me! One of my friends asked me to take a look at this kid, year younger, who had this rash and had green shit coming out of his dick. Looked like the clap so I'm going to need enough to fix him up." Alex looked at him for a minute, shrugged, and reached into his desk. Pulling out a small scrub brush (with a sponge on it as well as a brush), Alex had also pulled out a small, dark brown glass bottle that said HYDROGEN PEROXIDE on the side. He explained to Harry, "Don't have any with me, but this brush and the peroxide should be used for the rash. Let me go into my room, see if I still have any. Though…" Alex paused, and then continued, "the wizard cure is much quicker, takes only a couple of days to work and you won't have to worry about the bug building an immunity to it. Course, since Professor Snape pretty much owns the potions, any work we do would have to involve him." 

Harry sighed, and said, "I think the tetracycline will have to be used. Just give me enough to cure him. Week's dose?" Alex thought for moment, "Yeah sounds about right if there is a rash and drip. Out of curiosity, you know if this lad fuck anybody in the school recently?"  Harry responded, "Yeah, I caught him with his trousers around his ankles during the Halloween ball a few days ago." Alex, who had been about to go to the door and to his quarters stopped and swore violently. Turning to Harry, he said, "Harry, I wish you hadn't said that. Goddamnit!"  Going over to one of the fireplaces in the classroom, he opened a jar of Floo powder on the mantle, and spoke into the flames, "Headmaster, could you please come here for a moment?" Within a second, Dumbledore was dusting his robes as he stepped from the flames into the History of Magic classroom, "Good morning Harry. You too Alex, and what issue is it that requires my presence before breakfast." Dumbledore seemed amused, but his amusement was quickly dashed as Alex quickly explained how at least one, possibly more, students had gonorrhea. 

Alex concluded with, "Sir, if we do not move fast, we could easily have an epidemic of venereal disease throughout the school." Dumbledore sighed, and started speaking, "I'm going to have to bring in Minerva, Severus, and Madame Pomfrey at the least." He turned to Harry, and asked for the names of the couple he had caught beneath the stairs. Harry answered, "Colin Creevey and Parvati Patil." Dumbledore shook his head, "While they aren't the first to use those closets, this certainly is the first I've heard of anyone catching anything. Heaven's knows I myself used have used those broom closets when I was their age…" Harry had a ludicrous vision of Dumbledore with some tart in Victorian era garb coupling in one of the broom closets and had to restrain a smile.

Alex answered, "Yes sir, as have I, and no doubt Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick, and three-quarters of all graduates during their time here. Probably Snape too, but you and I digress. We have to move fast on this, sir." He must have then remembered Harry was still there, for he turned to Harry and told him, "Go have some breakfast. We'll get back to you and your friends soon." The tone he spoke in indicated he would brook no discussion over it.

Harry nodded, and went out into the hallway, intending on having at least a slice of toast ever since his stomach had settled down some. Yet, once again he was stopped as this time he saw Creevey burst out of the bathroom, ashen faced, wincing and limping slightly. Harry was about to go ask him what was wrong when he heard the voice of Fred call out, "Hurts when you piss, eh?" The twins were coming from behind a suit of armor and were smirking at Creevey, who groaned and went back into the bathroom. Harry ran over to the twins and asked, "What the fuck did you two do to him?" Fred laughed, and George answered, "Nothing too terrible. Just fed him a bit Weasley Bathroom Powder. Designed to make a person have the sudden urge to constantly take a piss. Innocent, but effective for our needs." 

Harry shook his head and had to laugh. Turning around, he saw Creevey limping out of the bathroom, looking the worse for wear. Harry wasn't sure if he pitied him, or what, as the man looked downright pathetic. _Still, _Harry thought to himself, _Fred and George got it right, serves him right for getting something by fucking dumb_.

                        *          *          *

"You know, Nev, I can't say I'm surprised, considering it was my uncle whom I went and talked to about Creevey's getting the clap."

"Well then, damn you, damn your uncle, and damn Creevey for fucking anything that moves! Make it double for doing so without protection, the fucking dumb shit!"

Harry laughed, and watched his breath steam in the air. Neville was still raging, the west county accent of his getting more and more guttural by the second, "You know, I can't understand why your fucking uncle…for that matter, Dumbledore…couldn't have this goddamn inspection upstairs in the Great Hall or some place less like a goddamn freezer." 

"Nev, don't you remember Courtenay's rules? Ladies first?"

"And Courtenay didn't have the family jewels getting frozen off down here now did he?"

Harry laughed and twisted his neck. Around him was the male student body of Hogwarts, fourth years and up. They all looked physically different, but at the moment all were freezing as they were lined up in two ranks in the rather long dungeon, and all were naked from the waist down, waiting for a medical inspection of their nether regions. Instead of going to their morning classes (in Harry's case it would have been History of Magic) the school faculty had divided the student body from fourth year up into two groups (boy and girl) and marched them off. The girls had stayed in the Great Hall while the boys had been marched off by Filch down into one of the dungeons, curtly told to strip, and made to wait.

A few (mostly the younger guys, 4th years) were trying to cover their genitals, but most of the lads were doing the standard teenage boy routine: poking fun at each other over their manhood, lack of hair down there, the usual. 

It was then Harry remembered something from standing in formation in Wales. He turned to Neville, who was on his left while Ron was on his right, and said, "Nev, you remember the game we played whenever we had a stupid fucking formation?" Neville's eyes suddenly lightened as he asked, "Yeah, you game?" Harry nodded, and it was then both of them turned, and while yelling, "Glass-balls!" either backhanded or punched their neighbor's crotch. Ron yelped and shouted at Harry, "What the fuck was that for?" Harry quickly explained the game of Glass-balls, which was used to determine who had Balls of Steels (i.e. they didn't yell or complain much when the most sensitive part of a man's anatomy, _their _anatomy, came into contact with blunt trauma) or Balls of Glass (they screamed, cried, moaned painfully, etc.). The game was soon enthusiastically being played by pretty much everyone in the room, except for Malfoy (and his cohorts) who was shrilly screaming for people not to lay a finger on him.

"If you are done playing with each other, this medical inspection can begin." Alex's voice, trained by the best in Britain's Army, boomed out and brought the young fools' attention back to the immediate. Alex was standing at the door with an amused smile on his face. Behind him was short Professor Flitwick, who seemed to be shaking his head; while on Alex's right was Professor Snape, who looked ready to kill anyone who so much as coughed. Everyone shut up and straightened up, even the twins (who, after seven years of raising hell in Hogwarts had very little respect for authority in Hogwarts) and Malfoy (with Snape nearby, he quickly went on his best behavior).

Alex walked towards the table set in the center of the room; Snape following nearby with a glass flask full of a pink liquid that Harry was reminded of an antacid he had drunk once, Flitwick was carrying a stack of paper cups. Flitwick set the cups down as Snape started filling them. Not breaking step, Alex started explaining, "Right, now, each once of you will come up here and grab a cup of the potion Professor Snape is filling as we speak. At the same time, you will take one of the empty cups with you when you get back in line. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, drink the potion until Professor Snape tells you to." With that, he motioned Lee Jordan to go and get his cup.

Soon, everyone in the room was holding one cup of potion in one hand, and an empty one in his other. Snape stepped forward in front of the table and curtly commanded, "Drink the potion. Every last drop." Everyone did so, and Snape explained, "The potion you are drinking is known as the Venereal Searcher, for in about thirty seconds you will feel the urge to urinate. Do so in the empty paper cup. Your urine, the color of it, will tell us what precisely you have infected yourself with." Harry could tell he was telling the truth for he felt the sudden pressure in his pressure, and relieved it into the cup. Looking down, Harry saw that his urine didn't look any different then it normally did: crystal clear. 

As soon as everyone appeared to be done, Snape continued, "Now, Professor Evans and myself shall be conducting the inspection of your urine, and of your genitalia to see if you are infected."

"In…"

"I am not taking questions, Mr. Weasley, so kindly close that hole in the middle of your head you call a mouth."

Within a minute, Snape and Alex were going to each student, and conducted the inspection. The inspection was quite similar to the monthly VD check Harry had seen back in Wales, which was where the Battalion surgeon and a male nurse had gone around checking for dripping, rashes, chancres, and other signs to see if a more thorough examination was needed. Harry had only seen the second examination done once, and that had been enough for him to be an enthusiastic customer of Trojans and later the Eros Potion.

Doc Detibedeux must have seen or heard similar for Harry heard him mutter next to Neville, "I'm damn glad they aren't rodding us, man. My dad told me that's how they check for the clap back when I was just learning about women and stuff, and that talk was more then enough for me to be a regular user of rubbers…"

"What's that, Doc?" Ron was asking.

"It's called a urethral examination, Ron, and believe me, you don't want to go through it." Harry answered.

"Urethral examination?"

"It's where they take a cotton swab and insert it into your urethra, the tip of your cock in other words." 

"Ah, that would hurt! Why?"

"Most venereal diseases are bacteria based and the tip is where the initial, er, contact with it usually is. So, that is where the strongest concentration of the bacteria will usually be so…" Harry shrugged. Snape and Alex were about halfway done, since the only one who looked like his shit was infected was Creevey, who seemed to be hoping for death. Harry doubted if he would be so lucky, and once word of this reached the student body…

_The dumb shit won't get laid even if he were to walk into Meg's with a bag of galleons around his head_. Harry thought.

Apparently working as fast as they could, they came before Harry, and after looking briefly at his cup of urine, Snape looked at his genitalia, and asked him, "Any rashes, scabs, or chancres, Potter?"

"No, sir"

Grunting, Snape and Alex continued on down the line, Alex taking only time to burn the cups of urine with the _incindio _spell. As soon as they were done (only Creevey had a problem, his urine a green Harry had only seen in a lemon-lime sports drink before, and his nether regions its mess of rash), Alex began speaking, "Right, the purpose of this inspection was quite simple, but it will take a moment to explain. So put your trousers on as I speak." Everyone was doing so as Alex continued, "Now, all of you here are starting to notice, or already have noticed, girls. Right?" There were nods, and acknowledgements throughout the room. "So, we all have a pretty good idea of sex, yes?" A few nods, a bunch of blushing, and even a few headshakes greeted Alex this time. Alex smiled, "Let me see if I'm up to the slang then: shagging, fucking, diddling…" He went on a few more minutes as more and more people started nodding their heads. 

"Now then, I want those of you who are sexually active, to include masturbation or whacking off to raise your hands." Most people were back to blushing and looking around for someone to raise their hand first. Alex grinned and started catcalling, "What, shy bunch are we? Tell you what, I was whacking off when I was ten, had my first woman when I was fifteen, and caught the clap for the first and last time after a wild night pulling leave on a training deployment to Belize. Aye, I'm in the same company as Hemingway, Churchill's dad, and countless troopers down through the ages in joining the Clap club. Now, come on, don't be bashful, we are all men here."

Harry laughed, and saw that soon pretty much every boy in the room had his hand raised. Alex then started going on a lesson, explaining the male and female reproductive systems, sex, and contraception. Harry had heard the same before, over the summertime, for Alex explained it in a gruff, no-nonsense manner typical of a soldier the ways of women. Snape and Flitwick gave smaller lectures on the various charms and potions used to protect themselves and whoever they were having sex with. Harry could tell the class was paying attention, as soon the class came to an end with what would have been the bell to signal the end of the morning classes and thus lunch, and everyone looked disgruntled as they moved out the classroom. Lee Jordan went so far as to say, "Harry, your uncle has to be the coolest fucking teacher we've in all my seven years here." 

Well, everyone moved out of the dungeon except for Colin, who was being acidly informed by Snape to drink a foul looking potion, else, "your penis, however miniscule it may be, shall dissolve from the inside out." 

Fred, George and Ron, of course were all smiles as they heard this.

Harry only hoped that this silly game of vengeance was over, but part of him had a sneaky suspicion it wasn't.   


	22. Chapter XXII: The Conference

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXII: The Conference 

Harry and Ginny were lying down in their usual spot under the oak tree, Harry's black cloak covered them from the chilly weather. Ginny was playing with Harry's ears, and talking of the week's Quidditch game, and Ron's role in it. With his head resting on a leg of the tree, Harry contented himself with thinking, and enjoying the pleasure of Ginny's company.

The week of Colin's clap and the meet with Remus and Sirius had seen the first Quidditch games as well, which had gone badly for Gryffindor. Harry's points about putting Ron as captain and Doc were primarily hit, but a bit of miss as well. Did Ron know how to get the various elements of a team to score goals? Yes, he did, with three chasers, and two beaters that were the best in the school; they had racked up several high scores in the two games of the week. Was Doc a good replacement for Harry as Seeker? Damn right, as Doc had taken some unbelievable punishment (example: getting slammed by two bludgers in the chest and back and thus cracking three ribs and still going on to get the snitch) Was Ron a capable keeper? Sadly, the answer was no. True, he had looked impressive the times he had played with Harry and the twins over the summer, but on the pitch, he had lost as many as he saved. Harry had the sneaky idea Ron was suffering from a bit of stage fright, and that time would cure him of it. 

Yet, until then several of the games were cut _really_ close, almost too close for comfort.

Ginny was laughing about it when Harry turned his head, leaned forward, and kissed her, his tongue gently probing, on a spot behind her left earlobe, close to where it connected with the face. Harry had found out during one of their previous sessions that Ginny was very ticklish there, and at another spot on the nape of her neck, and was delighted to find Ginny start laughing. She turned, and kissed him on his mouth, and two of them hungrily kissed and held each other for a few minutes. Harry, without thinking of it, moved his hand under Ginny's sweater and was cupping a breast when he felt her stiffen. It was only then he realized what he was doing, and sheepishly apologized to Ginny. Ginny, breathless, waved it off, and smirked, "I take it you were popular with those girls you had over the summer, eh?" She laughed as she saw in the moonlight squirm with discomfort.

Harry looked down at her, and said, "I hope you were enjoying it as much as I was?" Ginny laughing, nodded, and told him a little of the VD talk that had been given the girls. Apparently, Madam Hooch, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey had held the talk, and the 'talk' had been comical to say the least. Harry laughed with Ginny as he couldn't picture any of them as younger, desirable women as McGonagall was quoted as saying, "Ladies, your virginity is something that once it is gone, it is gone forever, so be sure to save it for when you are married." McGonagall, not to mention the other two, had been _very _silent though when Susan Bones from Hufflepuff had asked the three teachers of their first time. They had also been almost laughed out of the Hall when Hermione Granger had pointed out none of the three were married, or were they since Madame Pomfrey had just given a rather _detailed_ description of the male reproductive system, and Madame Hooch and McGonagall a serious talk on habits of men? According to Ginny, all three looked absolutely drained of emotion when _that_ question had been brought up.

Ginny had laughed as she told the story, ending, "Nothing my mother didn't tell me of over the years." Harry smiled, and drew Ginny closer to him, and he murmured, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Harry."

Harry held her close, and watched the waves on the lake. Ginny asked him softly, "You busy this weekend?" Harry thought and shook his head, "Probably not, but with Mad-Eye and my uncle…" He shrugged, and asked her, "Do you get angry sometimes, Gin, with the way things are between us?" 

She looked up at him, and answered, "I knew things would be like this. You know what? I don't care, all I know is I love you and nothing can change that. This secrecy, I know that is why you love me, that you care for me so…" Harry stopped her with a kiss, though he was thinking of what she was saying.

With the nightly lessons of S.E.R.E. and Occlumency, Harry and Ginny were having a hard time finding time for them in secret, but as Ginny pointed out, she had known this could be the case and wasn't complaining. Harry wasn't, though he did feel guilty since he felt he was getting the greater share out of their relationship while Ginny was getting the short end of the stick. Still, what time the two of them could find, both time enjoyed each other, their relationship going at a slow, comfortable pace for both of them, tonight being an example. 

Holding on to each other tightly, the couple kissed, and murmured endearments beneath the tree, as the stars above glittered.

            *          *          *

Harry's hopes for a quiet weekend were shattered the next morning during the security briefing as Alex and told him, "Harry, pack about a couple days worth of clothes. We're going to go to London for the weekend. Should be back by Sunday night though, as we leave tonight before dinner." Giving Harry a small black suitcase, Alex explained there was an operation going down that required his and Moody's presence down south, and Alex wanted Harry to ride shotgun with it. Harry nodded stiffly as he had heard this line before, and before probably would be rejoicing in it. Now, though…

Going up to his room, he hurriedly packed, and went through his classes only half paying attention (which was regular since it was Herbology, Divination, and Charms that day, and Harry only made a half-hearted attempt to pay attention in Charms). At lunch, he had broken the bad news to his friends; all of them had been disappointed that Harry wasn't going into Hogsmeade with them. Harry had looked closely as he could without being noticed to Ginny, and could see that she was disappointed. Looking at her, Harry wanted nothing more then to take her in his arms, or to get down on his knees and apologize. But had held back from showing too much emotion, as he knew full well that once any of the student body knew, then it would only be a matter of time before Voldemort knew and once that happened…

Before dinner, with everyone down eating dinner, Harry had gone up into the room, and pulled out his Browning in its cross-draw holster, and the vest. Putting it on, Harry felt depressed, and saddened. Buttoning up his shirt, he almost choked himself with his tie, and was swearing foully at it, venting his irritation, when he heard a small laugh behind him. Turning, he saw Ginny standing there, and his voice died out. Ginny literally took his breath away, even dressed in the unflattering school uniform. To Harry, Ginny could probably wear a potato sack and make it look it beautiful.

She was carry a small paper bag, and set it down at the on Harry's trunk as she went up and straightened his tie once again. With a smile, she said, "It looks like this will be a new job for me, huh? Harry, I made a couple of sandwiches and there is a small jug of hot choc…" She was cut off as Harry leaned forward and kissed her, tasting the pumpkin juice and chocolate she had had for desert after dinner. They stood like that; Ginny with her hands on his tie, Harry with one hand on his tie, the other behind Ginny's neck. 

Realizing just how vulnerable they were to discovery, Harry gently broke away and said, "I'm sorry, Ginny, but…" "Harry, it's all right." Ginny ran a finger along Harry's jaw and touched his lips. She grinned, "No regrets, Harry, this is a dream come true." In a gesture that surprised him, she took a hand from his tie and placed it over his heart. There he felt her heart beat, and, just as important to a virile fifteen-year old teenage boy, the warmth of her breast. 

Harry leaned over and kissed her one more time. Still realizing the time, he broke away and said, "Listen, I should be able to see you Sunday night. Say, nine o'clock at _Buck's_?" Ginny was all smiles, "It's a date."

With that she gave one last hug and left the room. Harry looked around his room one last time and was about to leave when he took one last look at the picture that he kept of him and Ginny in the corner of his trunk. Closing the trunk, he sighed, put on his weapons holster, and went out of the room.

                        *          *          *

Going to the front door with his suitcase, Harry ran into Moody and Alex, who were waiting patiently for him with packed suitcases. "Ready, lad?" Alex asked quickly. Harry nodded, and following the two older Aurors walked with them down the path from the school to the front gates. Ron, Hermione, Doc, Katrina and Neville came to see him off. Harry grinned and told them he should be back by Monday morning for breakfast and classes. 

They waved goodbye as a Moody opened the door to what looked like a regular blue, BMW sedan. Inside, though, Harry discovered it was magically modified so that it was spacious enough for all three of them to sit and have plenty of legroom. Two goblins wearing the uniform of Bladvak's regiment were in the driver's and shotgun seats, the one riding shotgun armed with what looked an old, short, sawed off shotgun, the other a wicked looking hatchet in his belt. 

As soon they had entered, the goblins switched on an invisibility generator (much like the kind Mr. Weasley had put on the Ford Anglia that was now roaming the Forbidden Forest), for Harry saw their image vanish from the reflection off of the highly polished surface of the wooden doors, and rise from the grounds like a helicopter. Harry was surprised, for while he remembered advising the dwarves earlier in the year of the advantages of aerial surveillance, he hadn't seen one of the aerial vehicles at their disposal. Moody must have seen his astonishment, for he began chuckling, "We talked to Arthur about how he modified that Ford Anglia, and we modded a couple of these we bought on the muggle black market. Useful, yes?" Harry nodded, and watched outside. 

The goblins were flying the way the he had seen in old Vietnam War movies: treetop level, balls to the wall speed. Harry only hoped the guy at the wheel had nerves of steel, for the way he was going (Harry could swore he saw an owl crap itself in its nest as they narrowly missed it), it would be a minor miracle if they made it to London in one piece. Moody, with his regular eye closed and the magical one looking around the car, seemed to be dozing while Alex seemed to be watching Harry with an amused expression. Harry, not wanting his uncle to think him shook up by the wild ride they were on, asked him, "I take it this isn't the first time you've been on a ride like this?" Alex shook his head, "Na, back in the Paras we practiced as much with choppers as parachutes. Ever seen a combat landing at night, whilst under fire?" Harry's uncle was grinning feral, a challenge evident in his tone. Taking it, Harry asked, "Under fire, when?" Alex shrugged, "First time I was back after the hospital, 2nd Para was in Belize in on training deployment when these communist guerillas in Guatemala were found to be setting up a small base on our side of the border." He smiled wickedly, "So, we moved in, one company riding in these Pumas we had. My company. God it was a sight to remember…They must have heard us for they opened up on us with light and medium machine gun fire, the tracers shooting at us like something out of fucking Star Wars. I mean, it was like the greatest bit of sex and all the greatest fucking fear you have ever had all rolled into one and shoved down your gullet…" 

Alex had that far-off look in his eyes that Harry had seen before as he related his war stories. "You're scared, and so is your mates next to you, all of you screaming your guts out as you see the landing zone approach, and you jump off as the chopper as it hovers for about a second or two three feet above the earth and soon you and your mates are firing and shouting and you got a grand old firefight on you hands." Alex started talking of the running gun battle they had had in the jungle. Harry, despite having been there and done that before, nonetheless listened to the story of battle in a distant land.

After what seemed an eternity, Alex shook his head and brought himself back to earth for he continued, "Tom Williamson took a round through the head, and was killed instantly, and we had a few more lads get hit a bit, but we bagged about thirty of the bastards dead, and captured about ten more. Piss pot of munitions, too." Staring at Harry, he asked him, "Know what we did with those fucks we captured lad?"

"What?"

"Turned them over to the Guatemalans on the border. And can't say I care what they did with them afterwards. Heard later, though, the Guatemalans buried them alive." He fixed Harry with a stare. 

"Think that makes me evil, lad?"

"Well, I mean…"

"Lad, you think of the first man you killed?"

"That Irishman in Wales? Not much, I mean, he was trying to kill me, and if I hadn't then…"  
  


"No, your _first_ one…Quirrel, in your first year at Hogwarts." 

Harry had to think of that for a moment, something that he (surprisingly enough) hadn't done before. When he was younger, the idea he had killed had eluded him until Alex had brought it up. As for the Irish terrorists, Harry had been half scared and half crazed by the adrenaline so that his training and the survivalist instincts all humans have buried beneath the social chains came forth when he had been in the firefight, and all Harry knew was he killed at least two men, and didn't feel a damn thing about it. 

Did he feel guilt over killing Quirrel? A bit for the man had seemed quite decent, but what other alternatives had Harry had? Quirrel was under the dominion of Voldemort, and had the son of a bitch gotten his hands on the Philosopher's Stone back then, then his return would have happened a good three years earlier, and odds were, Harry would be dead and buried somewhere within Hogwarts. 

Harry was still debating when Alex answered for him, "It couldn't be helped, so just be bloody grateful you are alive and breathing, while the other bastard is dead. With the war that is brewing, the odds of any of us coming out this one alive are slim at best, and coming out unscathed is non-existent."

Finding the topic uncomfortable to say the least, Harry asked, "Where are we going uncle?"

Moody answered for him, "Headquarters for the Order. I'd sooner you not know where it is due to the risk factor, but since practically everyone we know has already been there once before, and since Dumbledore's the Secret Keeper and can do what he wants with it…" Digging into the traveling cloak he had on, he pulled forth a small slip of paper and ordered Harry to memorize it. Reading it, Harry saw it was directions to a street in a very shabby section of London. There was but thing that struck Harry about it: the name of the address: Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Moody took it away and incinerated it.

Harry was about ask where that was when he noticed that they were no longer flying over countryside, but were instead over city streets and buildings. In the distance, Harry could make the clock face of Big Ben and several of the London bridges. He was impressed at the speed at they were traveling at (no more then an hour had passed on what usually was a trip that lasted at least four hours), and watched as they soon were flying over a really slum looking region of London. 

In a minute, the goblin driver had the car hovering over an empty alley, and set it down there. Once on the ground, they deactivated the invisibility generator and were moving at a normal speed down the streets, stopping in front of a row of grimy, dirty buildings. Looking outside, Harry could see what looked a pile of used rubbers, empty needles, and dog-shit lying near an open square near the houses.

Moody and Alex, seated on opposite sides of Harry, rolled down the windows and looked outside. Harry could smell a strange, herb like odor in the air along with the usual of exhaust, trash, and sewage. "Clear" Moody growled, followed shortly by the same from Alex. With rapid speed, they opened both doors at once, slammed them shut and dashed out across the streets, staying close to the sides of the buildings, and scanning with both of their eyes the immediate area. Harry had to spend a moment marveling at how fast one man with a steel kneecap and six pins in the other, while the other man had a wooden leg, could move so quickly. 

After a moment, Alex motioned to Harry to get his and their bags and join him in front of the space between two grungy houses. Harry did so without grumbling out loud, though part of him, was wondering if they had gone through the whole routine just so he could carry his and their luggage; he also didn't think it a good sign that the neighborhood he was in was so bad the street lights looked as though they had been stripped of the bulbs. As Harry did so, Moody came, up and slapped the roof of the car. Without another command, the blue BMW took off at top speed down the road as Harry moved up to Alex. Alex led him between the two houses, one was marked 11 and the other 13. Harry wondered just what he was playing at when Alex knocked on the wall and a house appeared, with the number 12 above the door. 

Alex opened it and pulled Harry, whilst Moody all but shoved, him through the door. Inside, Harry found himself facing a long row of what looked like…_Shit, those are elves!_ Harry thought. Indeed, he was greeted by a long row of desiccated heads, mounted in a parody of hunting trophies. What disturbed Harry, though, was the fact several of the house-elves seemed to have been blissfully happy in their moment of death. Looking around, Harry saw he was that there was very little light and that Alex was calling out as soon as the door closed, "Padfoot, get some damn light in here, man!" Afterwards, Sirius Black came from one of the side hallways, and with his wand started lighting a series of what looked like old, Victorian era gas lamps. Sirius didn't look too happy, but a smile came to his face when he saw Harry and called out somewhat cheerfully. "Hey, Harry!" Turning to Alex, he asked, "So when's the conference?" Alex shook his head, "Not yet, first we need to move our kit and then we need a bit to eat." Looking around, Alex sniffed the air, "Bit dusty isn't it?" 

Sirius grimaced, "Yeah, it is. Been here on and off since the summer, and I still wise Dumbledore had chosen a better spot but…" He turned and bellowed, "KREACHER!" Looking around, he bellowed the name out a few more times before he turned in disgust and told his guests, "I don't know where that damn elf is…more then likely sifting through the trash I was storing in the attic!" This last perked Alex up for he asked, "Is that portrait of your mother still up?" Sirius shrugged, "Yeah, but I got it covered so…" He didn't finish as Alex bolted down the hall for parts unknown. Sirius ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair and swore. Moody seemed amused as he asked, "Know where we can ditch our kit and eat? I'm starved." Nodding, Sirius led them through hallway to a pair of rooms close to a large kitchen, the door of which was open. Upstairs, Harry could hear the sound of a woman screaming in rage whilst over it was the booming sound of Alex's laughter. Part of him was curious, but the other part wasn't so, he followed Sirius and dumped his suitcase on top of one of the beds in the room. Opening one of the side pouches, he removed the bag containing the sandwiches and drink, and set it on top of one of the beds. 

Moody took a look around and grunted, "A mitt dusty, but serviceable." Harry had to kill a laugh as the room was almost like the flophouse above the _Hog's Head_: bare bones in other words. Moody pulled his wand out, checked it, and put it back into a pocket in his jacket. For reasons Harry didn't know, all three of them were dressed in business suits, and Moody asked Harry, "Your kit good?" Harry nodded, and moved his jacket to the side, showing the Browning he had holstered there. Moody grimaced, "Your wand, Mr. Potter?" Harry held up his palm and Moody nodded in approval. 

Amongst the various things taught in the Dueling and Muggle Self-Defense Club had been a way to use firearms and wands, if not simultaneously, then at least quickly after the other. The obvious problem was that one couldn't use anything bigger then a pistol if one wanted to use a wand or least have it close at hand. Alex's solution had been simple, and had required very little getting used to and training: using a group of rubber bands, the wand would be placed on the subject's shooting hand, or rather on the wrist and lower portion of the forearm. Since the shooting hand was often the same one used by most people for wand usage, it was a matter of training to get used to having the tip of the wand rubber banded to the palm of the shooting hand. 

Harry, with a score out of 290 out of 300 on the shooting range, required very little retraining in how to shoot with either side or long arm with his wand banded to his wrist.

* * *

Moody nodded in approval and, after ordering him to carry it in his pocket since he didn't have anything bigger on him then a pistol, told him, "Come, and let's see if Sirius can scare us up some food." Harry didn't have much confidence in getting anything, so he picked up his bag of food Ginny had prepared for him, as he had a sneaky suspicion that Sirius wouldn't have much. This proved to be the case, as Alex was digging through the cupboards, whilst Sirius watched amused. "So you mean you don't have a goddamn thing in this place?" Sirius shrugged, "Remus, Tonks, or someone usually bring in a day's worth of food, saves having to move in a lot of groceries, but Lupin over slept and forgot or something." Moody grimaced, "So you mean we should have made the trip after dinner?" 

Harry decided now was a good time to bring out his sandwiches. Clearing his throat, he held up his bag of sandwiches and spread them out on the table in the kitchen. Ginny, bless her, had packed four sandwiches of corned beef with mustard on rye, and Moody (after sniffing it and peering at it intently with his magical eye) declared it one of the best he had ever tasted. Alex, munching on it with a small tea cup of the hot chocolate that Harry had packed with him, asked Harry point blank, "So, what young lady made these tasty sandwiches?" He was grinning as he said it.

Harry almost choked on the cup he was sipping, and said, "What makes you think it was a girl?" Holding up the sandwich, Alex explained, "Simple, it really _does_ matter if someone puts a lot of effort into something like a meal. You can literally taste the difference." Biting into, he chewed slowly, and started talking, "Hmm… my guess is someone your age, give or take a year…your house… very pleasing to look at…" Harry decided to stop the game before he started making dangerous guesses. "All right, there's a girl I'm seeing regular, but with the ways things are, no one besides me knows who she is. Remus and Sirius know I'm seeing someone, but that's it, no other details. I don't want her to be burned because of me." Alex seemed to be lost in his mind as Harry said that, and it was Moody who spoke first, in a voice full of emotion. "Wise thinking, lad, wise indeed…" With that, Moody got up and said, "Harry, tell your lady I appreciated the sandwich. Try to get some sleep, as tomorrow will be a busy one. Also, try not to wrinkle your suit, you'll be needing it." After telling them he would be checking the perimeter before retiring, Moody stumped off. 

Harry was curious and asked Sirius why Moody got emotional over the talk of women. Sirius shrugged, "Moody's been an Auror so long, and seen so much…You know back in the war against Grindewald, during the Second World War to muggles, Moody was just badged as an Auror and engaged to this one girl in France?" Harry shook his head, and asked, "What happened to the girl?" Alex answered, "She stayed behind in Paris around 1940, when Grindewald was just starting to gain power as the Germans rolled in. Moody's lady wanted to try and infiltrate Grindewald's group, to gain information. Grindewald found out and well…" Alex shrugged, "Moody's hated the dark side since, though he didn't start getting paranoid until the last war when that moron Fudge allowed those bastards to get away."

Alex looked off into the distance, "That's war though…we all lose someone dear to us…" He turned to Harry, "Get some sleep lad, the next couple of days will be busy."

* * *

The next morning Harry awoke around five in the morning to find him alone in the bedroom. Alex, with whom he shared the room, was nowhere in sight. Yawning, Harry got up and looked through the small suitcase he carried for a towel and his shower when he remembered that he didn't have a clue where it was. So, barefoot and wearing a pair of olive drab boxers and t-shirt (underwear he had kept from his cadet uniform; after the summer, he had weaned himself away from pajamas and slept either in his boxers and t-shirt, or naked dependant on where he was sleeping) and with shower bag in hand, he went out to the kitchen, hoping to ask Sirius where the bathroom was. 

Entering, he saw Sirius was relaxing at a table having a cup of tea whilst Moody was at a stove, looking none too happy as he fried several eggs. "Morning, Harry." Moody growled without looking at him, his normal eye still on the pan. Sirius waved at him and told him where to find the bathroom. Harry nodded, and went to the bathroom, and found it to be quite like any muggle one with a sink, toilet, tub and shower assembly. Turning on the water, Harry took a minute to strip and wash, and then started thinking things through. What the hell was going on? Why was the headquarters of an organization dedicated to fighting the Death Eaters in place as though it were straight from _Death Eater Weekly_? Just why the hell was he spending a weekend away from his girl?

Harry laughed at this for, they had been going out what…under ten days? Yet, truth be told, Harry was content with that, as his clinical, and quite probably cynical eye, found all other girls besides Ginny to be well…plain and unattractive. True, as a man he noticed the curve of another woman, or a great rack from time to time, but Harry was content basking at night with Ginny, and know that he loved, was loved in return by, the most beautiful girl in the school. 

That rather happy train of thought as the door to the bathroom slammed open. Harry, shampoo in his hair, grabbed a bar of soap intending on throwing at whoever it was when he saw that it was a really old, ragged looking house-elf. Judging by the harsh, rather squat features of it (not to mention the lack of breasts) Harry assumed it was male. This was confirmed as the elf muttered, "Filthy scum. Worthless mudblood. Oh how the old mistress would hate this! Her worthless pathetic son bringing in a filthy brat to foul her washroom." Without so much as a look the elf stomped off out of the bathroom, still muttering. Harry was so stunned by this whole incident, and it wasn't until Sirius came out of the kitchen that Harry realized he was still naked and supposed to be washing.

Sirius looked over, laughed, and said, "What you doing? Posing for _Playgirl_?" Harry shook his head and rinsed his head. Still washing, he motioned for Sirius to sit down and told him, "Close the door, it's bloody freezing." Sirius did so and looked over at Harry, and laughed. Harry scowled, "What's so damn funny?"

Shaking his head, Sirius explained, "Remembering this time I was helping Prongs wash you as Lilly had to go buy some groceries and it was your dad's day off from the Ministry. You were about…" He looked at the ceiling, and cocked his head. "Six months? Maybe a month or two give or take, but anyhow, I was sitting down talking with your dad as he was washing you in this little pink baby tub. You know, the ones about as deep as a small bucket? And you're splashing away, having a grand time. Anyhow, after he's done rinsing you off, and is about to pull you of the tub when you…" Sirius started giggling, "You took a piss on his shirt, and James is upset because he was supposed to go the office again later that night. So, he puts you back in the tub, rinsing you off one more time when you start splashing water all over the place. James was a bit miffed so he threw some water on me, because I was laughing with you and soon we are all soaked and throwing water at each other when your mother comes in, and she is mad at what happens, she promptly takes you away, _and _starts yelling at me and your dad. Know what you do then?"

Harry had finished, dried off, and was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and asked, delighted inwardly hearing an account of his early childhood, "What?" Sirius started laughing raucously, "Since your mom had been breastfeeding you, the first thing you do while you're held to her chest is start pulling down the front of her blouse, and is soon trying to get your meal through one of her bras. Whole time she was yelling at us, I was laughing at the whole scene; your dad was laughing, and giving me the gimlet eye for looking at Lilly's tits." Harry laughed too, and answered, "As he should of…Staring at your best friend's wife's tits." 

Getting serious, Harry asked, "Sirius, do you have a house elf?" Sirius scowled, "Yes, belongs to my family. Name of Kreacher. He's worked for my family, and in this damn house my whole life and then some." Harry got off of the tub and pulled on a clean pair of OD boxers, and asked, "This house belongs to your family?" Sirius nodded grimly, "Aye, the humble abode of my childhood." Harry was surprised at this, for he had seen the mounted heads, and the large number of serpentine figures in the house, and his consternation must have been evident for Sirius told him to go and get dressed, and then he would explain. 

Go to his room, Harry put on his suit, but left the tie off for the moment, and went back to talk to his godfather. Sirius was waiting for him outside his room and explained. The house of Black was an ancient pure blood family. While they weren't direct supporters of Voldemort, they had sympathized with the concept of keeping the bloodlines pure. Sirius showed Harry, in a small tour of the house, a tapestry showing the bloodline of his house, apparently all the pureblood families being connected in one way or the other. Harry saw that the place where Sirius's name should have been was burned out. Mother Black had torched it the day she had heard of him being inducted into Gryffindor house.

Sirius showed him also the maniacal portrait of his mother, and it was still screaming obscenities as he led him back down the stairs, calling Sirius a disgrace amongst various niceties. He told Harry of how his brother Regulus had been the pride of the family, and got himself killed by a group of Aurors. 

Harry hadn't known what to say and tried to change the topic to something happy, and talked for a few minutes about how he and Ginny were doing, though he didn't mention her name. Sirius seemed to brighten as he listened to Harry extol the merits of his girl, and how happy he was sneaking through the halls to their trysts. "Harry," Sirius asked as they moved through the dark halls of the Black house, "have you and your girl gotten…intimate yet?" Harry flushed slightly, "No, and I'm not pushing her. I'm happy just being with her, though it is bloody torture during the daytime making it look as though nothing is happening between us." 

Sirius smiled, "Enjoy what you can, while you can Harry. Course you probably heard that before. Heaven knows happiness can evaporate in a heartbeat."

"Did you ever, you know, have a girl you were serious about?"

Sirius paused and looked at Harry for a moment, and then sighed. Nodding his head briefly, he spoke, "Indeed, she was a woman three years my junior who worked in the Ministry. We were going steady when…" He shrugged, "She took an assignment in Russia, and just vanished about six months before your mother and father were killed. I don't know her assignment as she had taken a job with the Intelligence section of the Department of Mysteries, and well…" Sirius didn't finish the thought, and together they went into the kitchen, where Moody and Alex had been joined by another group of wizards. Harry recognized one of them as Remus Lupin, who waved and introduced him to the group.

Mudungus Fletcher, a dodgy, pudgy character who bore the sad expression of a basset hound, the Order's shaker and mover with the underworld elements of the wizard underworld. As Alex put it succulently, "A man with every one of his fingers and toes in as many pies."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, a lean, muscular, black man with a gold earring, he was a high-ranking member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who wore the rosette, and crossed dagger and wand of a badged Auror. He had been a member of the Order since the earliest days during the 1970s and according to Alex, was the man in charge of hunting Sirius Black. Which was why the hunt was centered on Central Asia; Black's location somewhere on the Indian-Afghan-Tibet border…. 

Dedalus Diggle, an older grizzled Auror who had been in the Auror's Division with along Moody during the Grindelwald days. Harry had met him before when he was younger and Dedalus was delighted Harry remembered him. 

Finally, there was a tall, lithe witch who looked like she was in her twenties. Harry looked at her in appreciation, for while everyone else was dressed in suits and ties, the witch, who introduced herself to Harry as Nymphadora Tonks, or just Tonks, ("Nymphomaniac?" Alex had asked innocently, to be given a dagger stare by Tonks), was dressed in jeans, an orange sweatshirt with the Puddlemere United logo on it, and had a hairstyle of grape juice purple, which she changed to bubblegum pink and then back again with a couple of waves of her head. She was Kingsley's partner, and while she was too young to have fought in the last war, she had served capably and well as one of the few new Aurors recruited in the last three years. Needless to say, she held Dumbledore in high enough regard to go and work for him. Harry was glad for that he could tell she would be dangerous in a fight by the light, springing step and the confidant way she moved.

After the introductions were made, Moody got right down to business. "Right, the operation is simple and straightforward. Since everything's been done in house and we all know whom the mole, or should I say rat was from the last war, there shouldn't be any drama. We rendezvous with the VIP as he apparates behind Nelson's statue in Trafalgar Square. Since the area is largely a refuse area, he shouldn't be spotted by any muggles…" He discussed the routines involving three Ministry vehicles that were being used just for the occasion and security arrangements outside of a hotel where the main portion of the operation would be going down for the next several days. 

"Now…Yes, Harry?"

"Sir, just what is our operation?"

"We will be providing protection for an emissary from the Order who will be meeting with approximately fifteen other people in a muggle hotel. Myself, you, and Alex will be providing personal escort for the VIP during the meeting." Moody continued on with the briefing, leaving Harry with more questions then answers.

* * * 

An hour later, Harry found himself bundled up in his trench coat sipping a hot, though piss-poor, cup of coffee with Alex. The two of them were walking around the front of Trafalgar square, Alex talking to him of British military history. Moody was sitting on a bench reading a copy of The Times. "So lad, what do you think was going through the minds of the men of the 66th at Maiwand as they ran out of ammunition, and wound up fighting an enemy that outnumbered them with rifle butts and bayonets?" Alex had been telling him of a fight in Afghanistan that saw a regiment overrun, it's colors taken, and a small group of survivors in a square facing down an enemy that outnumbered them ridiculously. Harry shrugged, "They held, they probably knew that they were doomed, and couldn't have cared any less." Alex sipped his coffee, nodding. "True, but there is one factor you forget…when they saw their regimental colors taken they probably had no illusions to their fate. Yet they still fought, so the stragglers would have a decent chance at living, and," Alex grinned malevolently, "to ensure the Afghans paid as high a price as possible for the privilege of killing them."

Harry pondered this, but his thoughts were cut short as he heard the distinct popping sounds of a person using the Apparation spell. Alex clapped him on the shoulder, and told him, "Let's move." Walking slowly, the two of them turn around the statue, and saw that it was Arthur Weasley, dressed in a plaid suit tan overcoat. Quickly, they moved to either side of him, as Moody took the front and led them to a black Mercedes Benz. Arthur nodded to them, and got in, followed by Harry and Alex as Moody rode shotgun while Mudungus drove. Without looking, Harry knew that there was a tan Ford Fiesta with Remus Lupin and Dedalus Diggle trailing.

It wasn't until the doors were closed, the windows up, and they were moving did Arthur turn to Alex and Harry (Alex on the right, Harry on the left side of Arthur), smile, and greet them. "Hello Harry, Alex. Didn't expect you to see you here." Harry shrugged, "My uncle wanted me along for this one. How's the family, sir?" 

"Oh, Charlie is doing all right working in Wales with the Dragons, while Bill is dating that French student, Fleur, was it?"

Harry laughed, "Indeed, sir? That's good news, and Per…" He stopped himself, for he remembered that Percy, with his usual sycophantic style was working with Amos Diggory in the 'investigation' of the Triwizard Tournament. 

Arthur must have understood the unspoken question for he continued, "Molly is all right, and Percy seems to be enjoying his work as one of Fudge's hatchet men along with Diggory. Aye, those two and that human tapeworm Dolores Umbridge."

"Who's that, sir?"

Arthur shrugged, "Undersecretary to Fudge. She's basically in charge of any and all dealings that would silence dissidents of Fudge. Her reach is quite extensive, as I know my office has twice been audited this year, and as have the Auror's Division, and any other section that could be used to fight You-Know-Who when the time comes. Hypocritical bastard claims everything is fine, but he's been using the Terrorism, and Official Secrets Acts as much now as old Appscott did during the height of the last war."

Harry was silent for a minute, and decided to get back to the mission at hand. "Sir, just what are you going to be doing today? Why the cloak and dagger and protective detail, sir?"

Arthur grimaced, "I'll be meeting with representatives of fifteen of the more powerful magical governments. You see, Fudge doesn't realize that You-Know-Who could be drawing support from abroad, and that we'll need to fight him the way Grindewald was fought: with the combined might of as many nations and people as can be mustered. While Fudge may not consider Dumbledore's word very much, others aren't so sure and at the very least are willing to investigate further."

Moody turned back, "Approaching the meeting site, Arthur. Get ready as we're doing this as quickly as…" He stopped and put a finger to his ear, nodded briefly, then spoke into his shirt cuff, "Understood, Pupil out." Everyone was equipped with Auror Comm sets, but Moody had ordered them turned off to prevent them being located by Ministry communications interception units. The only ones being used were by Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks, since the last two were Aurors and weren't likely to be noticed, while Moody was…well, Moody, and apparently one of the first things Fudge had ordered was that anything in regards to Moody was to be ignored. Which was all to their advantage…

"Arthur, we're going to have go in via the service entrance beneath the Marriot. Tonks told me she saw a watcher element that belongs to the Ministry camped out near the front entrance." Alex swore and said, "I thought we had this operation secure from our end?" Moody shrugged, "I think even though Arthur may have lost any contacts, they probably had tails out on Tonks as well considering she's a half and half. Christ knows Umberidge would suspect her over something like that, and we're lucky that I had her file a fake report about having to stakeout the place."

A couple more minutes passed as Fletcher took a side street and went down a tunnel before parking in front of an underground elevator. "Out" Moody ordered as Fletcher brought it to a stop in front of an elevator. Harry got out and scanned the area, seeing nothing but a large underground parking lot. Arthur and Alex got out of the other side, and were followed shortly by Moody. The trail car pulled out to a stop and Moody called out, "Remus, Fletch, park the wheels and keep a watch down here. Kings, head up and meet Tonks. See if you can ID those snoops they have up there. The rest of you, lets move out." Using a key, Moody activated the elevator, and all four entered the lift. He pressed a button for the eighteenth floor, and settled back. Another two minutes, and the lift opened to a reveal what had to be a really large broom closet, judging by the toilet paper and cleaning supplies piled around. Without another word, Moody opened the door and led them down a plush carpeted hallway to a suite numbered thirteen, and had the sign on it saying it was being renovated. Moody drew his wand, tapped the door, and it was opened by a straw haired wizard and a dark haired witch. The four entered where upon Moody introduced the wizard as Sturgis Podmore, and the witch as Hestia Jones. Jones reported, "The delegates have all arrived and are waiting in the conference room." Moody nodded, and asked, "Has it already been scanned?" Podmore nodded, "Both Magical and muggle. The room is as clean as a whistle, plus we got Elphias and Emmeline arranging food down in the kitchen, so everything's set, sir." Moody nodded, and led them through a small sitting room, and into a large conference room. Inside, around a cherry oak table were fifteen men and women whom Harry wondered were actually witches and wizards since all were dressed like Muggle businessman or women. 

Arthur went forward and said, "Good morning, my name is Arthur Weasley and I am here on behalf of Albus Dumbledore. Please take seats." Everyone did so as Arthur continued, "I bid you welcome, and if it isn't a problem, I would like to you introduce yourselves to save any problems later on." One of the delegates, a tall, cadaverous an with a head of salt-and-pepper hair rose and introduced himself, "Charles G.B. Spender, US Department of Magical Affairs Intelligence Service"

A shorter, dapper looking man with slick-backed blond hair, "Pierre de Castre, France" The others in turn rose and introduced themselves likewise.

"Niccolo Colleoni, Italy"

"Marietta Hidalgo, Spain"

"Rheinhard Steiner, Germany"

"Anastasia Koniev, Russia"

"Kemal Mustafa, Turkey"

"Jan de Wet, South Africa"

"Carlita Gutierrez, Argentina"

"Zao Wang Shek, China"

"Hosni Sadat, Egypt"

"Prag Tiwari, India"

"Ruroni Takashi, Japan"

"Yi Sun Kyong, Korea"

"Arshad Khan, Iran"

All had the common denominator of working in the intelligence or diplomatic services for their magical governments in their homeland.

The American rose, "Now that we are here, can we get down to business?" He drew an ashtray close to him as he spoke. Harry took a seat besides Moody and Alex away from the table and watched as Arthur began briefing the assembled people. Harry paid close attention, but it was nothing new to him. After the Dark Lord's initial defeat in 1980, he had made an attempt to return in 1992 and had succeeded last June. So far, the situation was quiet as intelligence indicated the Dark Lord was slowly amassing support at home and abroad, and detailed the information available. Arthur stopped then, and allowed the delegates to digest the information presented.

Spender opened a pack of Marlborough cigarettes, and lit one. Inhaling the smoke, he asked, "Before any further discussion is possible, I personally have to know…what is the status of the Five case?" Arthur seemed disturbed by this, but it was Alex who answered, "My name is Alexander Evans, I believe I can answer that." Spender nodded, "I have but one question, has the fifth man been smoked out, and if so, was it either of the two that you and Moody were investigating in 1980-81?"

Alex sighed, "No, it was neither of them. The fifth man was Peter Pettigrew." Harry was intrigued, for he had heard oblique references to this case earlier in the year, and listened intently as it seemed to tie in with the death of his parents, Black's arrest, and more importantly, it was something he didn't know a thing about. The Russian Koniev asked next, "I thought Mr. Pettigrew was killed by Sirius Black and was a hero of sorts amongst your kind? Also what of the other four members of the Five Ring?"

Alex explained, "Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were never in any real positions of power during the war. While they may have gotten away with saying they were under the Imperius, they were still removed from what positions they were in the Ministry in the first place, and reduced to mainly collecting office gossip. Augustus Rookwood was perhaps their highest placed source within the Ministry as assistant head of the Department of Mysteries, though he was burned when Karkaroff was interrogated." 

Alex sipped from a glass of water near the table, and continued, "The two primary suspects for the Fifth man described by the debriefing of Mr. Wiggins after his defection in the winter of 1979 following the assassination of Minister Appscott and his aide Vance Robb were found to be judged innocent after testimony was given by several witnesses where Pettigrew admitted to living as a rat for a period of over a decade, and having betrayed the secret of the Potters. From all evidence available…" Alex listed the theory that Pettigrew had been recruited immediately after graduation from Hogwarts, and had been supplying information to the Death Eaters for about two years before the Godric's Hollow Incident, since the summer of 1979.

The Japanese delegate asked, "What is the evidence of Pettigrew's treason? Indeed, where is the evidence that he is still alive?" Alex replied, "Evidence of the former comes from an analysis of previous evidence, along with testimony of a confession on Pettigrew's part in the summer of 1994. The latter is confirmed by the testimony of one primary source."

"Who is?"

"Mr. Harry Potter"

The delegates seemed uneasy at this…Well all except for Spender, who merely continued smoking his Marlborough and said, "All of us are here because our respective governments are concerned with another outbreak of Dark wizard activity in the United Kingdom, the way it during the 70s. However, before even the possibility of joint action is discussed, the validity of your Dark Lord's return must be verified." Another drag on the cigarette as Spender looked directly at Potter. 

Harry had a very good idea what was going to happen, so he spoke first, "If my honesty is questioned, then I gladly offer to be interrogated by Mr. Spender and the other delegates under Veritaserum." 

Spender smiled, "Oh, no, there is no need for that extreme. There is a muggle method we use in the States that has proven to be effective, and less…debilitating compared to a truth potion. Just sit still, take your glasses off, and allow me to ask a few questions."

Harry did just as he was told to do as Spender came up to him holding a rather large magnifying glass. Spender ordered, "Lean back and relax." Harry did so, as the chairs he and the bodyguards were in were modern office type chairs one could lean back in comfortably. Spender put the glass over one eye, and told Harry to shut the other one, which he happily did as it was disconcerting to Harry's vision having to have one eye stare through a magnifying glass while the other was in it's usual blur. 

Spender asked, "Now, describe the events of the 24th of June, 1995?" In as calm a voice as Harry retold the events of the Third Task from the previous year. He wondered what the hell the point of the magnifying glass was for. For the first time, Harry noticed that he could relate the events from the previous year coherently, and almost unemotionally. The training, discipline, the drinking and sex and just plain living had had the recuperative effect on him. Harry personally thought it was because of two women that he had brought back from the point of losing it: Alice, the prostitute who had shown him so much of women and life, and had been a friend to him during the summer, and Ginny, to whom Harry felt he loved more then anything out there (especially his own life, for as long he could remember, he hadn't held it in high regard, figuring death couldn't be as bad as living under his Aunt's roof). 

As soon he was done, Spender sighed, and told him to put his glasses back on. Turning to the other delegates, "Mr. Potter's story is the truth. It appears the worst case has occurred." Moody snorted and asked, "And how could you determine the veracity of Harry's information that toy?" Spender smiled, " There is a muggle investigative technique that has become vogue over the past several years by the muggle intelligence services. It seems when you lie, your pupils dilate slightly, as well as a slight movement of the eyes to up and to the right, apparently using the portion of the brain that processes imagination. When one of the analysts in Research heard of this, we tested it out on subjects under all sorts of conditions and discovered this salient fact: the eyes never lie. Even those who had to lie under the Imperius curse were discovered lying. No potion, or charm out there can hide the eyes. Well, unless you count death of course."

Moody seemed intrigued by it as the meeting began in earnest. After they had established the fact that Voldemort had returned, they settled down to the serious business of establishing a joint plan against Voldemort's aggression. Under wizard hierarchy, the main international body that oversaw the magical world was the International Confederation of Wizards, a United Nations for wizards, with every country of the world having it's own Ministry of Magic (or Department of Magical Affairs). However, there was, as in the muggle world from what Harry understood of it, a great deal of diplomacy between nations, with some of the more robust wizard nations out there having a greater influence. Britain was one such nation, as were the fifteen represented at the meeting. 

From the way things sounded, the wizard world had seen more then it's fair share of madmen and power hungry despots the way the muggle world had, the difference was that the muggle world didn't also have the responsibility of keeping their major troubles and wars secret. During the previous war, it had been much the same way: after the bloodshed fighting Grindewald, people didn't think anyone as powerful would show up, and it took a long time for people to realize there was a problem and for action to be taken. Even the end of the war had seen bloodshed as die-hard holdouts fought at home, or their supporters abroad continued the fight. 

The primary purpose of the meeting in London was to share intelligence on known dark magic organizations, and to reaffirm ties once things became public. It had been made abundantly clear to Arthur and the Order at the start that while the delegates' governments believed in combating Voldemort and the Dark Wizard organizations in a joint manner, Fudge was still Minister of Magic for the UK, and it was still largely an internal matter. All the meeting could do was share in intelligence on dark magic activity, of which all present had copious amounts. 

Or rather, as Harry noted, the common denominator for the intelligence was thus: the more stable or rich the nation was in the muggle world determined dark activity. Thus, dark magic activity in nations such as Western Europe, North and South America, and North East Asia resulted in smaller, less aggressive, though better organized dark organizations. Spender boasted that his organization had the entire dark wizard population of the US constantly tracked so that within three hours of a go signal, the entire dark wizard community in the US could be rounded up and imprisoned should it be called for.

Groups in the Middle East, Africa, Central Asia, and Eastern Europe (this last one especially) were larger, far more aggressive, but fortunately less organized due to constant infighting. Since the muggle lands that they operated in were in various stages of turmoil, anything could, and usually did, go. Nonetheless, the Russian, Egyptian, Turkish, and Iranian magic ministries were keeping as tight a leash as possible on dark wizard depredations. Alex mentioned that it seemed Voldemort's group was operating near the Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania again, and Koniev promised that he would see if could move agents and resources near those resources, though he could make no guarantees as the breakup of the muggle USSR had caused all sorts of havoc in Eastern Europe not seen since the 1940s. 

Spender asked Arthur, "How is your shop intelligence wise? We had assumed Britain was a quiet region and, well…" He shrugged. Arthur sighed, "We're still building effective networks. I can't go into any specifics, but have several contacts reporting on various aspects of Voldemort's operations and that of his top lieutenants. I'm not going to answer questions about them, because not even I know the full specifics or even the number we have, but know this: the sources are high enough they can be used to verify each other."

Harry thought of Snape, and wondered who else was risking their life to do such a dangerous job. Whoever it was, they either had guts, or were determined in some form or fashion to gain vengeance against the Death Eaters to risk slow and painful death to get that information. Harry only hoped that their sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.


	23. Chapter XXIII: Fight in 3 Broomsticks

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXIII: The Fight in the Three Broomsticks 

The month of November passed for the students of Hogwarts rapidly. After returning from the conference (It had gone decently well, with the delegates promising to share any intelligence in the months ahead, as well as to inform their respective governments that '_Yes, sir, Minister Fudge really _has_ lost it and gone over the deep end over there_.'), Harry had made it back in time for his date with Ginny. Settling back into the comfortable routine of schoolwork, managing security (which included watching Quidditch close to the announcers of Lee Jordan and Lee's protégée Dean Thomas), and training, Harry was content, and felt hopeful for the future. Professor Snape, while still the usual acid iceberg, at least wasn't going out of his way to humiliate Harry, and since Neville was paired with Katrina, a Potions class was almost civilized as. Not that it would have mattered for Harry usually found himself thinking of Ginny when the going went to shit…

Remembrance Day (Nov. 11) had been a different day then usual. Alex and Billy Fish had been dressed in their No.2s again, only this time wore black armbands. Mourning bands was what Alex had called them. At sundown, Alex and Billy together with two ghosts, one with a bugle, the other a set of Highland bagpipes. In front of the doors to the school, as the sun was setting, the bugler had sounded Reveille, and then Retreat. Alex and Fish had stood to attention, and faced south. The piper ghost had done his part, playing Bonne Dundee and then Amazing Grace. 

Later, Harry and Neville (two who had been with Alex in Wales over the summer) had had a couple of drinks in the History of Magic classroom with Fish and Alex. Alex had shown them two petitions he was sending in to the Ministry: one for a new medal awarded to wizards for valor against dark magic, the other for a day to be set aside like Nov. 11, a wizard Remembrance Day. So far both petitions had been turned down. Alex had been quite cynical of the answer, "No matter how much these fools like Fudge place the value on magic, and the purity of blood, in the end we are of the same species as muggles. We are no better or worse then they are; they have had wars, we have had wars. Sadly, the goddamn Ministry doesn't which to remember that salient fact." Harry and Neville had kept quiet.

Death Eater activity was quiet to say the least. Snape reported that Voldemort was still testing and punishing the members of his inner circle. If he was planning anything, it certainly wasn't with his Death Eaters, not even Wormtail, who was being punished with the rest of them. Harry, out of the little respect he had gained for the man, refrained from asking just what sort of punishment Voldemort was inflicting on him and the others. 

Hagrid had, to Harry unsurprised mind, brought back another creature from his mission to the giants. Rather, he brought back with him his half-brother, a full-blood giant who was an adolescent at around sixteen feet and god knew how many stone in weight. Going by the name of Grawp, Harry, when he had been briefed of the situation by Bladvak on the newest 'security measure' in the Forbidden Forest, had to wonder: was the whole purpose of forest merely a dumping ground for Hagrid's menagerie of deadly beasts? Though Harry had to marvel at how Grawp walked through the Urals of Russia, and then swam the North Sea from Norway in order to make it to his present home in Scotland.

November 25 had been a special day in that it was the first time Thanksgiving, an American holiday, was celebrated at Hogwarts. Doc Detibedeux had arranged a supper of turkey, stuffing, biscuits, yams, mashed potatoes, and Southern Pecan pie for much of the Gryffindor class, and a few guests from Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones (the Hufflepuff Female Prefect), Hannah Abbot, and Tony Goldstein were a few of them, and they apologized for the conduct of their classmates, and for themselves as news of Karkaroff's death under 'unknown circumstances' had just reached the news. It was perhaps fortunate that the previous night Harry had had a great time with Ginny, for otherwise he probably would have laughed in their faces, and asked if they really needed evidence of Karkaroff being disemboweled and otherwise suffering a most painful death before they believed him. 

But, in the generous mood that he was in, he had waved off their apologies and told them to dig in.

The first week of December saw the first snowfall that year for Hogwarts. Ginny and Harry wound up having to modify their routine a bit, meeting late into the night in a series of abandoned classrooms throughout the school. Ginny had been a bit miffed that Fred and George had given him the Marauder's Map, but beyond that they had great fun evading the patrols of goblins, Filch, and Mrs. Norris. "This cloak is worth its weight in gold, Harry!" She had breathed to him as they stood embracing each other, pressed up against a wall as Filch and Norris came searching for them one time as they were making their way back to the Gryffindor common room, hidden only by the Invisibility Cloak Harry's father had left for him. While Harry could have bluffed his way past the man using his badge and authority, he stuck with the cloak, as he wanted no one to know of him and Ginny. The fact Ms. Thomas could give a half-decent description of him and Ginny (even though he always covered his scar with a bandage of some sort) worried him, as Harry wasn't stupid and knew that sooner or later the bit of him and Ginny would leak. Yet it was still, it was his responsibility to Ginny to ensure that that didn't happen as long as possible, and so kept with his precautions…

            *          *          *

Despite spending as much time as they could together with their respective dates, the friendships they had didn't grow distant. Indeed, the night of the Fourth of December found Harry, Ron, Hermione, Doc, Neville, Luna, and Katrina seated around a table in the _Three Broomsticks_, which was packed with Hogwarts students and people from the village. Ginny, regrettably, had detention with Mr. Filch and her brothers for helping Fred and George with an experiment involving a new type of Fanged Frisbee, though she had promised to try and make it sometime that night. The week had been an especially brutal one with vast series of homework that had only been alleviated as Christmas break started in couple more weeks, and even better, another ball was to take place. It was scheduled to take place on the night of the 24th of December, Christmas Eve, with the Hogwarts Express having a special trip to King's Cross Station so that some people could have part of Christmas and the New Year's with their families. 

This, together with the usual gossip of Quidditch, was the highpoint of their conversation. 

Ron, hand on Hermione's, asked Harry, "So who you bringing to the Ball, Harry?" Sipping a bottle of Butterbeer from the neck, Harry shook his head, "No one, I got the duty that night and every night." Doc, who was eating a cocktail cherry, smiled, "Going to catch Colin and Patil again?" Everyone laughed at that, though Harry rather felt sorry for the man as the news of him having the clap had spread like wildfire, with the twins bequeathing him with the nickname of the Drip. It also didn't help any when it came out that the probable cause of Colin catching the clap had been when he cheated on Ginny over the summer time with a girl in his hometown in Kent. Harry was half tempted to let it be known that Patil had been the last girl that he knew of Creevey had fucked as he was of the opinion 'it takes two to fuck'. Still, he kept his mouth shut, as he couldn't really care what happened to the man and had better uses for his valuable time and effort. 

Feeling a pressure in his bladder, Harry said, "Listen, I'm going to go take a piss. Be right back." Getting up, he headed past the bar towards the boys washrooms. Passing a booth, he saw Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Malfoy's woman Cho. They were smirking as Slytherin had managed to smash Hufflepuff earlier in the day at Quidditch, and Malfoy, no doubt thinking Harry still smitten with Cho, placed a hand on one of Cho's thighs. Harry smiled, and gave a friendly nod to Cho, who seemed to have no expression on her face as Malfoy worked his hand upwards. Harry entered the washroom, closed the door, and went to one of the urinals without a backwards glance. Cho was so far behind him that she might as well have been on Mars.

Unzipping his trousers, he started urinating, and saw out of his peripherals a thin, sandy-haired man who looked like he was in his thirties, dressed in gray robes with a blue cloak and enter towards one of the stalls. Harry finished his business and was zipping up his trousers when he noticed that the man checked the stalls for people, but wasn't actually using them. Since the walls were high enough to see if people were in them, there was no reason for him to be doing that. Piqued, Harry zipped up and as he did so, he saw the reflection of the man, wand drawn, pointing towards him, heading towards him. 

Harry played with his zipper, and when he felt the man was close enough, he turned slowly. The man pointed his wand at him, grinned, and said, "So this is the boy who lived? The Dark Lord…" That was as far as he got for Harry slapped the hand holding the wand away. Since the man obviously didn't expect him to be of much trouble, the wand flew away. It was all instinct and training as threw a punch at the man's throat, hitting the Adam's apple. The man went down choking, but still fighting as he tried to reach up and punch Harry's balls. Harry stepped out of the way and the man missed, hit the side of the stall, and fell face-first into the urinal. Quickly, Harry grabbed the man by his hair, and methodically proceeded to smash it twice into the urinal. 

The man groaned and seemed to be out of it, but Harry knew this wasn't the time for the Marquis of Queensbury rules. Pulling out the baton he carried, he extended it and proceeded to cosh the man twice on the side of his head, and then rained a series of blows against the man's knees, elbows, and kidneys to ensure he remained docile. The man slumped to the ground unconscious, but nonetheless still breathing. _Breathing's good_, Harry thought as he flipped the man over, and saw that he wore a thin leather belt on his robes. Quickly, he loosened it, pulled it off, and took the time to go through the man's pockets. Empty, sterile, except for a small blue handkerchief that looked as if it were made of the same material as the cloak. Obviously, the man or his employers' didn't want their intentions known in case just what was happening happened. The man moved a bit, which Harry took the chance to kick him about five times in the groin. Movement stopped, followed by a strange mewling whimper from the man. Harry decided the noise a slight improvement over the movement.

Without any further thought, Harry stuffed the handkerchief down his prisoner's throat. Alex had explained to him that putting it down the throat served the useful function of killing sound, and having the calming effect on a person; the effect being the prisoner worried more about choking and wouldn't think much of yelling or other drama. That done, he gripped the man's half cloak, wrapped it around the man's head tightly, tied a knot using the ends of it, following which he tied the man's hands and arms together using the belt. Not wanting to be undone, he dragged the man into the stall, sat him down, and proceeded to take the man's shoelaces and tie his feet together. It was only after all of that did Harry cast a full-body lock on the man. Harry felt that had he more time, he would do a full-cavity search (amazing what a man can do with paper clips, handcuff keys, or single-bladed razors; it was just as amazing where those mentioned items could be hidden), but his instincts told him to check on his friends.

Alex Evans Maxim #1: Paranoia is good, it keeps you alive.

Picking up the man's wand, he stuffed it into a pocket and proceeded to the door. Drawing it open slightly, he looked around. Malfoy and the goon squad was still in their seats, the usual patrons at the bar… Five people Harry didn't know, dressed in identical white cloaks and wearing Russian style fur hats, were seated, staggered, around the table of his friends. Harry saw that his friends didn't look too happy, and that Neville had the same look on his face that he had had when he was fighting in Wales.

After what had happened recently, he decided to play it safe. As part of his standard gear, he went around with a pair of Weasley's Extendable Ears, the stethoscope like magical microphones, and using them he listened in to the conversation going on down at the table with his friends. It wasn't good. One of the Russians (Harry was thinking of them via the hats) was a short, dapper man who had on a genial smile. He was talking to Katrina, who was staring at him defiantly.

"As I said, Ms. Snape, your father wants your presence. Now."

"And as I told you, if my _father_," she said this with the utmost disdain, " were to want my presence, he would personally have told me, or come to get me himself. Not send a complete stranger such as yourself."

Dapper man continued smiling, "Do you think I'm lying, young lady?"

"Absolutely." 

Dap laughed outright, and nodded to the others of his goon squad. They moved in closer, and Harry knew he had to do something. He couldn't go in Van Damn Style: too many civilians. That left…

Alex Evans Maxim #2: Life is chance, and bluffing is life.

Stuffing the Ears back into a pocket, he strode confidently from the bathroom back into the main room. "Oi, Ron, another round of butterbeer?" Ron, looking quite angry, nodded stiffly towards him, the Russians stopping temporarily. Harry was playing the genial fool as he paid for eight beers and brought them to the table. As he did so, he surreptitiously examined the room, trying to see if the there was anyone who was related to the four around his friends. The room was too crowded to tell, and Harry devoutly hoped there was no drama; drama in a place like this ensured things got real messy, real fast.

Setting the tray on the table, he took a seat between Ron and Doc. Ron looked furious, Hermione had seemed nervous and angry, while Neville seemed torn between holding his temper, and ripping the throat out of the genial man. Katrina didn't seem nervous, but Harry saw the way her left ring finger was rapidly tapping the tabletop. Only Doc and Luna seemed unperturbed, and Harry found that more worrying then reassuring. 

Nonetheless, his face was smiling, unfrightened as he sat, popped open a butterbeer, and drank it from the neck. Dap looked over at Harry, a brief glimmer of surprise in his eyes before it became the usual joviality. Harry asked Hermione, "So, who are these gentlemen?" 

Dap answered, "Strange that you should ask that question. My name is Edwardovich Igachev." He gave a small bow and continued, "These gentlemen, who shall go unnamed, are associates of mine. You are Mr. Harry Potter, yes?"

Harry nodded, and the Russian continued, Harry noticing the man's English was capable enough that he spoke without a Slavic accent. "We are here because…" 

"Professor Snape asked you to, Mr. Igachev?"

Dap raised an eyebrow, "Perceptive hearing for a man in the bathroom, Mr. Potter." 

Harry smiled, "Oh yes, quite the bathroom. I even received a message in there. It was from…" 

"From this?"

The Russian slowly raised the sleeve on his left arm, and revealed the faded red tattoo (it was really a brand) of the Death Eater insignia. Everyone at the table went still, except for Doc and Harry. Harry was about to answer when Katrina, white-faced, muttered something. Dap laughed as he lowered his sleeve (Harry had noticed the skull had what appeared to be a double-headed eagle on it), and said to her, "Silly girl, do you know what a great man your father is? It twas a pity he took leave of his senses after he met that Gypsy whore that was your mother when he was our lord's emissary to Lithuania." Katrina looked angry, but Dap merely smiled condescendingly as he continued, "Oh, I can't blame him. After all, if you are wounded and you see a pretty face taking the time to heal you, you are bound to grow weak. He was fortunate our master showed him the error of his ways, and after your mother was dealt with, why, I've never seen a man crawl on his knees and show such gratitude to our lord!" The four laughed. Neville seemed ready to jump and rose out of his chair menacingly but was pushed back in by one of Igachev's goons. 

Igachev sipped from a small brandy glass near him. "Now, now, let us be civilized. Even though two of my peers here are immune to any weapons you may have because of their rather unique…condition, you could call it, let us be mannered and put our wands on the table shall we." Harry sighed, and gently took out his wand, and the one from the man in the bathroom as well. Ron sputtered, "Har-" 

"Shut it, Ron and do what he says. Same for the rest of you."  

They looked betrayed but did as he ordered them to. Harry asked as the last wands were placed on the table, "So, are these blood-suckers your regular companions? Have to carry around a blood bank to keep them alive?" Igachev continued to smile and asked, "So, tell me, how did you know that these fine gentlemen are vampires?"

"Easy to tell if their skin is waxy, and they have twin puncture marks on the wrists, and their necks."

The Russian clapped, and began a long lasvicous diatribe towards Snape's daughter about the death of her mother. Apparently, when Voldemort heard that Snape was involved with a woman, he together with two men named Rosier and Wilkes, and gone to Lithuania, kidnapped Katrina's mother, and as Snape watched, raped and killed her. Or, in the case of Rosier, a bit of necrophilia took place as Rosier had killed her, and then ravished her. Katrina looked…words couldn't describe her fury and anguish as the Russian described every second of the defilement and death of her mother. Neville seemed to be the same way, and it appeared that drama would soon happen: there was no way things could be talked out of.

 It was for that reason that as the vampires were enjoying the Russian's story, Harry slowly slid his Browning (ever since the ball, he had made it a habit to go around fully armed, twenty-four seven) from his holster. Hiding it beneath the table, he pulled the slide back slowly to chamber a round. When it couldn't go back any further, he gently rode it forward, and hoped he had done it right. It was then he felt something on his left thigh. Using his left hand, he felt it and discovered it to be in the shape of a semi-automatic pistol! Either a Browning, or a Colt judging by the feel. 

Looking towards his left, he saw that it was Doc Detibedeux, who casually said, "Seconds, please?" and rapped his sidearm against the side of Harry's leg five times. Five seconds before he made the first move. Harry started counting in his mind as he gently flicked the safety down on his Browning, hoping the noise of the bar would cover the ominous click of a safety going off.

_One one thousand, two one thousand_…

Igachev asked, his story finished with the promise that he would take Katrina to meet the Dark Lord under similar circumstances as soon as he finished his brandy, "What seconds?"

_Four one thousand_…

Doc gave a lazy grin, "These of course." With that, he fired at an upward angle, through the table, three rounds each to the two goons between Neville and Katrina, and between Ron and Herimione. In a flurry of wood chips, they went through the table. Harry saw the face of one man explode; he was dead if he was wizard or vampire, as the head, in all it's forms, was together with a wooden stake in the heart, garlic, and silver, quite deadly to a vampire. Another went down with a bleeding wound in his shoulder.

The vampire between Doc and Harry snarled and made a mercurial-like move to Doc's pistol, but Harry was fast enough, more importantly close enough, to raise his pistol, aim, and fire a round into the head of the vampire. Blood and grayish brain matter ballooned out over Doc, Luna and other guests, but since it was a hollow-point, the round stayed in the head. The vampire fell to the ground, Harry able to see the fangs in the red mess that had been the head. 

It was then, after about two seconds into the shootout, that the room went to hell. People started overturning tables, screaming, all hell breaking loose. Windows were smashed and people were going through them; out the door anything to get out. The Russian was wily to say the least: he kicked the table over and dropped backwards, wands flying everywhere. Everyone was soon in a mad scramble on the ground for their wands; good thing too as Igachev's friends started firing Stunning and Disarming spells left and right, forcing everyone to take cover behind whatever they could find. Neville and Harry, with their wand-less magic lessons, used _accio_ and soon had them in their wands in hand. It wasn't to be of as Igachev's friends were laying down a firestorm of magic and crossbow bolts (vampires were unable to use wands, and stuck with medieval weaponry, primarily blade and crossbow).

The latter fired a few potshots, but the people shooting was good as no bystanders had been hit yet. _No Killing Curses thank God_, Harry though as he ducked behind an overturned table.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madame Rosemerta firing a stunner towards one of the men firing into the crowd. It had been a minor miracle that no one had been hit (except for a couple of paintings, but that couldn't be helped). Harry saw a red stunner spell and three crossbow bolts hit Rosemerat and nail her to her liquor rack. Harry hoped she was alive, as he was a bit partial to her mulled mead…

Seeing how the place was full of panicky kids that were all ready starting to trample each other to exit, Harry made a snap call. "Nev, Ron, fire stunning spells on my command. Hermione, get those kids out of here, we'll cover you." Harry held his wand over his head, pointed it towards a wall, and yelled "_Destructus!_" A hole the size of a bookcase blew out of the wall. "Cover fire!" With that, he rose from behind cover, and started firing off stunning spells, as he didn't want to kill any innocents with the killing curse. Hermione, seeing the hole, together with Luna began chivvying as many people as they could out of it as they could. 

"KATRINA!" Harry looked to his three o'clock, and saw Neville roughly shoulder Katrina (who had been manhandling a young third-year Ravenclaw from out of his hiding place under a table so he could escape) aside as a red stunning blast hit him in the chest and blew him across the room. Harry saw Katrina run over to Neville, and drag him behind a booth that had been ripped out of the wall, and take cover behind it. 

Pushing Neville aside in his thoughts, Harry lay down on the floor, and tried counting the number of people still in the tavern. There was the wounded vampire, at least two more of bloodsuckers, the Russian, the prisoner in the bathroom, and one more Death Eater firing off those goddamn stunning spells. Six to what? Three? As Doc had once said, "Fighting odds!"

Checking his pistol, Harry knew he had fired off only one round, giving him twelve more. It was then Harry heard that distinctive, booming sound of the shotguns carried by the men of Bladvak's regiment. Harry heard a scream, then the clicking noise of crossbows, and more ominously, shouts of "_Avada Kedavra_!" Quickly, he glanced over the top of the table, and what he saw shocked. Ten goblins, wearing the red jackets of Bladvak's regiment, had charged in and opened fire. They had peppered the vampires with gunfire, but none of the vampires had taken headshots. All of them were still alive, and angry.  

Instead, shrugging off the blows, they had returned fire, and together with the Russian and another younger, looking Death Eater, were cutting into the Goblin patrol. Harry counted eight dead ones, and the other two looked as though they weren't far from it. Harry heard a low moan come from a goblin lying closet to him. Grabbing the shotgun that was tied to his arm by shoelace (it was old Army trick that the Goblins adopted from Alex), Harry dragged the goblin in behind cover and looked down. 

It wasn't pretty, as the goblin had taken a bolt through the throat badly enough that his blood was flowing out like a fountain. Harry swore as the eyes glazed over, and pushed goblin away. The poor bastard was beyond his help now, and if he didn't get his shit sorted out, then he and his mates were going to join him quick-like. 

More goblins were pouring in, and just as quickly getting killed. Harry noticed the vampires and Death Eaters were busy with the goblins; their backs were to him, Ron, and Doc.

Alex's Maxim #3: Never turn your back on an enemy unless he is dead.

"Doc, Ron, cover fire on three. ONE! TWO! Three…STUPEFY!" Harry yelled, firing it towards the younger Death Eater. Another one hit him at the same time, and the Death Eater flew backwards. Harry wondered if Doc had got hit, but that motion disappeared in an instant as he heard a strange, yipping yell burst from where Doc had been lying down. 

Harry looked over, and saw one of the most stupid, and ballsiest, things he had ever seen. Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux, bits of glass and debris on his clothes, his hazel eyes in a fury, his face grinning, had got up and calmly, as though he were on parade, slowly walking forward. Broken butterbeer bottles crunched beneath his feet. In his left hand was a Colt .45, in his right, his wand; his left was over his right, giving it a stable shooting platform. With cool precision, he fired three rounds into the head of one vampire, then remaining four into the other while he used levitation spells to throw objects towards the dark wizards, protecting him from their spells. He dropped the pistol, and started firing off Stunning spells towards the remaining people. 

Doc's gambit paid off, as two vampires went down, the other scurrying behind a table. The Russian, though, was made of sterner stuff (the younger Death Eater was still out of it) for he pointed his wand at Doc and fired off  "_Pyreggina"_. The spell hit the ground in front of Doc, and a flurry of wood and dust came from the floor. Harry saw the older man grab the younger Death Eater and make a beeline for the door. "_Firegga_" Shouting the first curse he could think of, he shot it towards the stumbling pair. It hit the younger one, and the man went up like a candle. Screaming, he tried beating at the flames, but without a wand, he was soon shrieking as his skin cooked and melted, giving the air the odor of cooking pork. What Igachev did next surprised Harry greatly: instead of helping the younger man, he merely pointed his wand, and spoke, "Avada Kedavra!" The young stopped screaming, and fell to the ground roasting. 

Harry pointed his wand at him, but the man took that moment to Apparate out of the building with a pop. Looking around, Harry saw the _Three_ _Broomsticks_ were a mess, and that it looked like Neville was still alive as Katrina was wrapping an Ace bandage around his chest. "The fuck's getting away!" Harry whirled and saw the last vampire stumbling towards one of the side doors. That didn't surprise him; what did was that the yell came from Doc. Covered in splinters, bleeding from a dozen little cuts, the sandy-haired kid from Korea and the Louisiana bayous was propped against a fallen table, his right foot on his lap as he stuffed a handkerchief into the stump where his foot had been attached. 

Harry could see Doc's face paling as the blood flowed from his stump, but Doc yelled at him, "Fuck me! Get that sumbitch, Harry!" Doc's drawl was slurred, but Harry knew he was right and took off after the vampire. 

Going at a hard run, he chased the vampire through the door and into an alley next to the _Three Broomsticks. _ The vampire was must have been aching, for when he threw a trashcan at Harry, he missed by more then a few feet. Harry stopped and watched as he scaled a wooden fence. "_Pyreggina" _The fence exploded, and the vampire fell to the ground. Harry knew that the rounds in his pistol wouldn't kill him, but they would serve the useful purpose of slowing down the vampire.

Just as importantly: The pain from having twelve 9mm hollow-points slam into his body would keep from causing any more drama. Which was why Harry carefully aimed, and fired until the magazine was empty his pistol into the vampire. Harry felt the weapon in his hands and watched as the bullets slammed the vampire down and kept him there.

After the clip was expended, Harry walked over to the vampire. The man was a mess with blood oozing from multiple gunshot wounds. It looked as though he was going to die, but Harry knew better, as all the gunshots did was hurt it. Harry hoped it stayed hurt, for he was wondering just how the hell he was going to capture it.

This was answered for him as he heard the voice of Uncle Alex behind him, "Easy, Harry, friendlies coming through." Harry slowly turned, and saw his uncle standing there, his bowler on his head, wand drawn with a squad of Goblins. Sighing, he lowered his sidearm and leaned against one of the walls in the alley. Alex, after examining his nephew with his eye, nodded and turned to the Sergeant in charge of the goblins, and spoke rapid Goblin. The goblins moved forward and secured the vampire prisoner with rope, chain and handcuffs. 

Harry didn't pay much attention, though, as he was drained emotionally, mentally, physically, the whole lot with a quiver in his hands. The usual. Alex pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket, lit one, and handed it to Harry. Harry took a deep drag, and let the nicotine soak into him. Though he felt a cough, Harry held on to it long and deep before exhaling. He let it go once the shakes stopped, and looked to his uncle. "Sir, there's another prisoner in the men's lavatory." Alex nodded, and barked another order to the Goblin sergeant. The squad of goblins dragged the vampire away and into the building. 

Harry looked to the sky, and saw the clouds were moving in. The cold had been biting, and Harry was sure it was going to snow some more soon. Alex brought his mind away from the weather: "Go inside, lad, we need a debriefing on what happened."

Alex looked at a pocket watch. "By my count, we have, at most, 24 hours before news of this hits the Ministry. When it does, all hell will break loose…"


	24. Chapter XXIV: Shades of Gray

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Warning: This scene is VERY gory, and I don't recommend it for the squeamish. Viewer discretion, etc…

Chapter XXIV: Shades of Gray 

Harry walked back into the Three Broomsticks to find it a scene of activity. Mad-Eye and Arabella, along with Legate Bladvak and Ironhammer were gathered around the bar. Around them, goblins wearing the red coat, but with a yellow cross in place of white chevrons on their arms, were sorting the dead from the wounded, and otherwise establishing a triage unit, using table tops and planking from the walls and floors to make stretchers even though Madam Pomfrey and a pair of seventh year lady Hufflepuffs were busy conjuring several of them. "Harry!" Looking around, he saw it was Doc who was calling to him. 

Doc was lying down on top of a conjured stretcher, his foot somehow reattached to his ankle though a bloody bandage covered it. He was still rather pale, but had a grin on his face as he asked, "Sorry, man, but do you think you can get me a drink? I mean a drink, drink?" Harry glanced around, pulled out the small flask he carried with him, unscrewed the top, and handed it to Doc. Doc drank a long pull, and responded, "That's good. Jim, right?" Harry nodded, as there was indeed a pint's worth of Jim Bean bourbon in the flask. Doc said, "Listen, don't sweat it over me and Nev there. Madame Pomfrey told me I'll be on crutches for about five months but that's all right, and Nev's got a couple a cracked ribs but he'll make it. You get the bastard who was running?"

Harry nodded, and said, "Listen, share that with Nev, and tell him once he comes to that I have to go debriefing. Right?" Doc nodded, as Nev was still out of it. Katrina was next to Neville, and Harry walked over and asked, "You, okay?" Katrina nodded. "You want me to get your father." She shook her head, and replied, "No, I want to be here when Nev wakes up." Harry put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed it, and went over to Figg and Moody. 

Moody had the burnt corpse of the younger Death Eater on the table and was examining the left arm in interest. "Yes, of course, this ties in with the reports Malfoy was going abroad with Nott to Russia. Yes…" Harry walked up to Moody and interrupted his rambling for Moody turned around from the corpse and ordered Harry, "Take a seat lad, this could take a while. Now, describe what happened as clearly and concisely as possible." Harry related the events of the evening from the time classes ended and everyone had made a beeline for the town. 

Moody stopped him when he spoke of the Russian, "You said his name was Igachev?" Harry nodded, and noticed Figg had placed a small pyramid with an eye in it (much like the symbol Doc had showed him on the American dollar bill) in front of him. The eye was staring at him intently. Figg, noticing Harry's questioning look, explained, "Not to worry, this is a Salazar Eye, it records everything within a 20 foot radius. Pictures, sounds, the whole lot and replays everything later like a memory from a Pensieve. Much more effective then a muggle video recorder." 

Harry continued, and ended with capturing the vampire. Figg tapped the side of the pyramid, and the eye closed. It was then Bladvak came by, and gave a slip of paper to Figg; she looked at it, closed her eyes, sighed, and asked, "Is there anything we can do…" Bladvak shook his head, "No, my soldiers knew what they were getting into when they signed the contract. The possibility of death was always listed there." He turned and headed towards the long line of goblin corpses in one corner of the tavern. Harry only noticed it then, and counted fifteen gray blankets that covered the corpses. Moody asked Figg, "The butcher's bill?" 

"Fifteen dead, eight wounded. Damn…" Figg screwed up her fist, and Moody shrugged, "It could have been worse. In a packed room like this, they could have killed a lot of students if it weren't for Potter and his friends." He turned towards Harry, and gave a gruff complement, "You really earned your pay today, Harry. Good work." 

Harry was about to answer that it cost fifteen dead, eight goblins in the hospital, and Neville and Doc fucked up, but was saved from an answer as Alex came in. He had gone into the bathroom after the vampire had been dragged away, and looked like an undertaker with his three-piece black suit, coat unbuttoned with the black vest and gold watch chain. The only color on him was the red-gold patterns on his school tie.

Alex went over to the Salazar Eye, tapped the eye and spoke clearly into it. "The Death Eater taken by Mr. Potter as prisoner in the men's lavatory escaped. How he did so is unknown, but that is the case." Just as quickly, he shut it off. Turning to Moody and Figg, he said, "Officially, that prisoner escaped. Unofficially, we have him, though I ordered a goblin sergeant I know to move him into the backseat of one of the Order's cars." Figg asked, "Why?" Alex shrugged, "I checked the crispy one, he's Russian. The one Harry had tied up in the latrine was English. We have a situation here that has to be dealt with."

Moody scratched his forelock, "Who is?" 

Alex's face was expressionless; "He's a Death Eater initiate, which isn't surprising since he is the son of one of their sympathizers." He paused and continued, "Albert Flint." Harry recognized the name as that of a family that supplied the Slytherin Quidditch captain. Out of curiosity, "How are we going to turn him over to the Ministry? There is bound to be some uncomfortable questions asked." Alex looked at him expressionlessly, "We are not going to turn him over. Mr. Flint is going to drop off the face of the earth.." 

"Sir?"

"Mr. Flint will be going with you and me, and a goblin driver on a midnight fishing trip. One where Mr. Flint won't be coming back." 

Harry was horrified, for he could kill a man in the heat of a fight, but this… "Shouldn't we interrogate him…"

"Already did so. He's too small low-level to know what was happening. All he knew was his father's friend Lucius Malfoy asked for him to help some Russian friends of his. Since Malfoy can deny the whole lot, Flint is too much of a liability." Harry was about to protest some more when he heard behind him, "I don't like it as neither, but it has to be done, Harry." It was Albus Dumbledore, who had come no doubt as soon as he had heard there was fighting in the town. Harry didn't know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut, and listened. "Harry, who do you think Fudge will believe? Your story, or that of the son of a most prominent, influential, and _generous_," the last came out caustically, "member of a pureblood family? Fudge, with his positions on muggles, squibs, and the purity of the blood… Do you understand why I am asking, yes I am asking, for this onerous task to be carried it out?" 

It took a moment for Harry to think it through. No matter how disgusting the job was (and if what happened was what he thought it was, then it was fucking disgusting), if Fudge could in some way break Dumbledore and the Order, then all was going to be lost. Harry didn't want to think what would happen if that came to pass…

Nodding grimly, "All right. Do you want me to come along?" Figg looked as though she were going to shake her head, but Alex answered, "You will, lad, you will."

Alex had been smoking a cigarette. Slowly, he stubbed it out on to the scarred tabletop.

         *        *        *

An hour later, Harry found himself sitting in the backseat of one of the Order's flying cars, in this case, a green land rover: Seated across from him was Alex who had on his lap an old, 1940s era .22 silenced pistol. An American weapon, Harry had heard it once, and it gave a very quite crack, no more loudly than dropping an empty box on a floor. Harry wondered if his uncle really needed to bring it, as at the moment they were hovering over a spot in the North Atlantic.

Beneath him, Harry could see the crashing waves of the North Sea, and looked at the bundle on the floor. It was a black, rubber body filled with about fifty pounds of cement ingots, and Mr. Albert Flint. Flint wasn't aware of what was going to happen.

Alex got up from his seat, and opened the rear door. They were fifty feet off of the surface, out of the way of waves. Since the car floated, there was no wash from props, so the door just hung out there open. Alex motioned for Harry to move the bag to the edge. With some effort, the two of them did so, until Alex held up a hand. The head of the bag was lying over the edge. 

Alex leaned back, and with his .22 in his right hand, used his left to open the bag. Flint was awake by now, and glared at Alex in the dim light from the overhead in the back of the Land Rover. "Do you have any last words, Mr. Flint?" Alex mumbled something, and the petrifucus totalus jinx was loosened around the man's mouth. Flint spoke grimly, mockingly, "Enjoy what you can now, mudblood, for when the Dark Lord strikes, you will pay!" Alex smiled, and punched the man's throat once. Flint started coughing as his speech was cut short. 

Alex looked down at the man, placed the barrel against the Adam's apple, and promptly fired a round into his throat. The round went in, but wasn't powerful enough to go through all the way. With the man's head and shoulders hanging over the side into the air, it ensured that even if it had, it would only have gone through and hit salt water. 

Flint started making a gurgling noise as blood from his larynx and voice box started going down into his lungs. Harry felt pity for him, and asked his uncle, "Sir, shouldn't you…"

"No" Alex's response was swift, unhesitant, and final.

Working swiftly, Alex took out two hand grenades: one of white phosphorous, the other a thermite grenade from a black bag near his feet. Both were notorious for the high heat they generated and were often used to destroy things like radios and other equipment. The two had been taped together with a lot of black electrical tape, and Alex used some of the excess to attach the pistol to the two grenades. Placing it on the floor, Alex reached into it, and pulled out a hand full of shotgun shells (birdshot, very small pellets but a lot of gun powder) and a roll of green duct tape. 

Flint was still gurgling for air and was starting to turn purple. Harry remembered the way his uncle had described to him how it was possible to drown in one's own blood. Part of recoiled at what his uncle had done, but the other part was fascinated at the way his uncle so callously dealt death, dismemberment and pain. Alex calmly loaded the shotgun shells into Flint's mouth, which was gaping and moving the way a fish on land did. As soon he had loaded in five shells, Alex duck-taped the mouth. He then, as Flint was starting to turn blue, taped a third grenade over the wound, and then the pistol and it's explosives. 

Then, just as quickly, Alex pulled the pin on the grenade on the wound, flicked off the spoon (five seconds before it exploded), zipped up the bag, and booted it out of the door. As soon as the feet cleared the rear of the Rover, Harry saw a flash from the bag, and a small bright ball of flame and light in the sky. The ball was extinguished though, as soon as it hit the water. Harry hoped Flint died, if not painlessly, then fast. 

Alex leaned over, and closed the door. Securing it shut, he went over and sat on the floor. As soon as he sat, the goblin driver took off, beginning the hour and a half flight back to Hogwarts. Alex opened a box of chocolate truffles (Harry remembered Alex mentioning it as a favorite of his) and looked over at Harry.  "Something wrong?" Harry looked over at his uncle, who was slowly eating a chocolate.

"Was that bit necessary? Couldn't you have just…"

"Double-tapped him in the head? Then dumped the body in the sea?" Alex was speaking to Harry almost condenscingly, and Harry found himself getting angry at his uncle's tone. 

"Yes, was it necessary to have him suffer?"

"You think he would show you any mercy if the roles were switched?" 

Harry had to check his anger at that one, as he didn't think that would be the case. Alex continued, not giving Harry much time to think, "Remember what the Headmaster said back in Hogsmeade? Think of it this way: if Flint was still prisoner, he would have had a venue, more importantly his father would have a venue, to burn _us_ instead of him. If he were dead, we still would have some heavy-handed explaining to do as to why he was killed and not brought in alive. So…If he were to vanish, then the Ministry, and just as importantly the Death Eaters, would be wasting valuable time and effort hunting the man down."

Alex shook the box of truffles, and held it out to Harry.

"Truffle?"

Harry didn't know what else to say, so he took one, and ate it in silence for the rest of the hour and a half trip. Alex was obliging, as he too must have been deep in thought over something. Of what, Harry didn't know, and to be honest with him, couldn't say he cared to know. Staring outside, Harry wondered how Doc, Rosemerta, and Neville were doing. He also wondered if Ginny was worried about him, for he had almost immediately left without saying much to his friends.

_I hope she isn't worrying herself silly, she'll give the game up_, Harry thought to himself. Another smaller voice of his added, _But then, she wouldn't be your woman if she didn't now would she_?

They reached the front gates of Hogwarts, and the goblins set it down in front the gates. Alex looked over at Harry, "Go check on your mates and meet me in the dungeons in about half an hour. Clear?" 

"Yes, sir."

The car stopped in front of the steps to the front door. Alex and Harry walked up them, and split off in opposite directions once they reached the inside. Harry went up the stairs going to the Infirmirary to find it was crowded, and that one section was curtained off. Harry saw Neville and Doc, side by side surrounded by Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina. "Hey, hoss, back already?" Harry could tell Doc was in pain, but was still had his sense of humor. 

His friends greeted him, Nev too as he seemed to have gotten lucid, though he seemed to be in pain as well. "You all right, Harry?" This was from Ginny, and even though her tone was light, Harry need only look at her to see that she was worried of him. Harry smiled wearily, "I'm fine, its the rest of you that I'm worried about. Speaking of which… Hermione, Luna, that was top work getting those kids out of the line of fire. Any casualties?"

Hermione shrugged off his complement, "Just doing the job, Harry, you should know that. No casualties thank heavens besides a bunch of minor cuts, scrapes and bruises." Luna started laughing, "And a lot of bruised pride. You should have seen Crabbe and Goyle try to get out of the room through that one window, and Goyle was stuck and Crabbe started to kick him to get him through!" Harry, who distinctly remembered seeing Crabbe standing on a booth kicking at something, but he had had more important things to worry about at the time, like survival, to worry about something like that. 

Neville breathing shallowly, asked Harry, "What happened to the Russian bastard that was…" He trailed off; Harry knew that broken ribs hurt one when you breathed. "Got away for now, don't worry though Nev, we'll get him." Nev smiled weakly, and moved his right hand so that it caressed Katrina's hand. Harry looked over at her and saw how she was by Neville's bedside, and looking down at him with… 

_She really does love him._ Harry was gladdened to see this, for Neville deserved it. Neville Longbottom may have been the clumsiest, and maybe not the most debonair student that wore the red and gold of Gryffindor, but lord knew he had the guts of one to spare, and he deserved a break of this sort.

The two of them reminded Harry to look around. Ron and Hermione were sitting next to each other talking quietly with Doc, while Luna and Ginny were talking. Harry knew that Ginny wanted to go and talk with him, to see if he really was all right, and that however much he wanted to hold her, and lose the damn veil of secrecy that hurt so damn much, it was being reaped doubly on Ginny.

Ginny turned, and in her eyes were her feelings for him, and the worry over him. Harry smiled, and with his lips mouthed _I'm fine_. She smiled back and turned away to Doc, asking how long it would take for the bones in his foot. Harry was impressed: all of that had taken but a heartbeat, and no one was noticing. 

Remembering his appointment with his uncle, Harry looked at his watch. It was a few minutes past midnight. He still had a few minutes, but decided the earlier he got there, the quicker he could brief his friends on just what the hell was happening. Saying he had to meet with his uncle about the incident in Hogsmeade, Harry left and told them he would keep them informed.

Heading down the stairs, Harry reached the dungeons, and was greeted by his uncle Alex, who was carrying an old-fashioned surgeon's bag instead of the nylon bag which he had carried the explosives. "Early aren't we?" Harry nodded, "I'm curious as to why we are down here. Care to talk, uncle?" 

"Of course, but first," he handed Harry a roll of parchment a green quill, a white one, and a small bottle of black ink. "You're going to be stenographer on this one."

"This what, sir?"

Alex smiled, his face frosty and devoid of warmth. "Interrogation"

With that he led him to a door, which seemed to be empty. Going to the wall, Alex pulled out his wand, and tapped it in the same pattern Harry had seen people use to enter Diagon Alley. The bricks moved aside to reveal a staircase. Following his uncle down that particular staircase, they came to a black, unmarked wooden door. Alex cast "_Alohamora_"and entered.

Harry followed him and saw the vampire that he had shot strapped to a steel chair with wide armrests. Harry saw that while the vampire still had the bloodstains on his clothes from his shooting, the man (the vampire appeared to be in his twenties, with long, dark brown hair, with Slavic cheekbones and blue eyes) was looking at Harry and Alex with a bored expression. Besides the vampire strapped with chains and handcuffs, there was a desk with a large inkwell, and a long table beside it in front of the prisoner. A couple of large braziers filled with hot red-hot coals were in another corner of the room.

"Sit at the desk," Alex ordered him. Harry did so, and set the parchment and quills down on top. Using the Green quill (Harry knew it was a dictation quill, the kind Skeeter had used to write her trash about him the previous year) Harry dipped it in ink, and spoke, "Testing, testing." The quill dipped itself in the inkwell, and wrote what Harry had said. Harry nodded over at Alex, who set the bag on the long table and opened it. 

Alex tossed over a small vial (which Harry recognized as a potion used to detect Nullificaserum) and dabbed some on the man's fingertips. This was easy to do since the man's hands were strapped and spread, fingers apart, on the armrests. They turned black and Harry was ordered to go back to his seat.

Alex turned his attention to the vampire, "Your name, and nationality." The vampire remained silent, and greeted Alex's command with a sneer. 

Face emotionless, Alex sighed, and pulled an object Harry couldn't see out of the bag. Harry picked up the regular quill, and wondered just what his uncle was going to use since truth serums weren't going to be effective. While he feared what it might be, he hoped his uncle wouldn't go to those lengths to get information.

Once again, Harry was wrong.

Alex went up to the vampire, and with a small ball peen hammer slammed it down on one of the vampire's knuckles. Harry heard the crack of bone and cartiladge over the scream the vampire gave. The vampire screamed for a few seconds then stopped, breathing hard.

Alex, as though he were discussing the weather, turned to Harry, "Vampires, while they heal faster and take greater efforts to kill then a human, nonetheless feel the same amount of pain. On another topic, pay attention closely, as the interrogation methods I'll be showing to you have the same degree of effectiveness of the Cruciatus curse. Except," Alex was still talking calmly, "of course, for the singular advantage of not giving off a large negative magical energy signature that is easily traceable." 

He turned his attention back to the vampire, and repeated, "Name and nationality."

Again, the vampire didn't answer, and it ultimately took the breaking of the first three knuckles on his pinky, ring and middle fingers of his left hand before he spoke his name: Sergei Chernenko, Russian. 

The interrogation continued after that. Alex grilled the man about his birthplace, how he became a vampires, the names of Russian vampires and covens, the names of British vampires, and covens, a wealth of information being pried out of the man through the use of pain. 

Harry knew he was supposed to take notes, but he was so… it was indescribable his feelings as he watched his uncle, a man whom he knew was one of the most charming and friendly and best people he knew out there do what he was doing to this person. Part of him was studying what Alex was doing, knowing full well that one day he could end up under the blade (Alex was using what looked like a metal hobby knife on the man's fingers and hands), the other part was recoiling at what was happening, telling him to intervene, that no one deserved what his uncle was doing to the vampire.

Yet, his ears deadened by the screams and yells of Chernenko, Harry merely stared glassy-eyed at his uncle and let the dictation quill do most of the work. Trying hard to concentrate, Harry studied the notes as they were being wrote. 

Chernenko was relatively a new recruit to the ranks of the vampires, first changing over in 1976. He had operated in England during the first war with Voldemort. The previous year, he had been asked by a vampire he knew of named Golovko to go and work with him in England. After that, he described the whole operation to Alex.  

Chenenko had been seconded to Igachev to head the contingent of vampires. Their mission had been simple: snatch Katrina Snape and bring her before the Inner Circle of Death Eaters. Assassinating Harry Potter had not been in their orders; kidnapping him as well as Katrina was a secondary objective, as the Death Eater who had briefed them ("McNair," Alex said to Harry as he heard the description) told them he was the objective of a future operation. Their plan had been to incapacitate him in the bathroom, but things had gone to hell from there on. 

Harry listened, and as the vampire finished his story with him being captured, Harry hoped the interrogation was over. Alex had run out of bones on the man's hands to break, and had taken a rubber blackjack to smash them even further as 'encouragement' for the vampire to keep talking. Chernenko's screams were horrendous to say the least.

Yet, as Harry was about to pack up, Alex held up a hand. _What the fuck is he doing_, Harry thought as he sat back down and rubbed his eyes. By sheer guesswork, he thought it was probably seven in the morning, as he had had to make several trips for water and to take a piss during the interrogation. The vampire, of course, had had to take a piss where he sat, so the room had the sour stench of urine in the air, though he hadn't shat himself, which, Harry conceded was a minor miracle. Nonetheless, he wanted to wash, and get some sleep, and devoutly hoped his uncle would just hurry up and let the prisoner be.

Alex set down the blackjack he held and looked at the Russian vampire. "You mentioned earlier that you served in England until 1982. Did you ever work for a vampire named Mueller?"

The Russian, who looked as though he was relaxing now that he had rolled and told just about everything, tensed up big time. He nodded slowly, "Yes, I did."

Alex's eyes had an unusual fire in them now. "And the man who recruited you for service in England, the one you said you had worked with before, it was Mueller, yes?"

Chernenko nodded.

"I know he works for the Dark Lord. Does he not?"

Another nod.

"Now, I have one last question for you. Where is he?"

The Russian started stressing big time, his eyes going wide as saucers. "I don't know."

"You lie. Last chance: where is he?"

"I don't know."

Harry watched as his uncle picked up the blackjack, and something from his case. Alex's face was full of…Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it was maniacal. Judging from the blackjack, Harry braced for the scream that bound to follow from Alex's finger work.

Only, this time, he didn't smash the fingers. With a deft backhand, he belted the Russian in the face with the blackjack. The Russian reeled with the impact, and worked his jaw up and down. Alex then spread it horizontally, and shoved it into the Russian's mouth as a mouth guard. Holding it in with his left hand, Alex's right hand came up to show a pair of pliers. Deftly, he gripped one of the two fangs that Chernenko had in his mouth and pulled one out. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound in the man's gums, and he started screaming.

Harry was stunned, as this was a new depth of torture. Alex, speaking to Harry even though he was facing the vampire, explained, "Vampire teeth have a gland in them that secrete an enzyme that they use when they drink blood. They can still live, mind you, with one or even none of them, but they are then dependant upon blood from transfusion, muggle blood-banks and the lot. In our world, it is the equivalent of being castrated." Harry already knew of these facts from his DADA classes. What was disturbing him was the way Alex was acting. His tone and manner was of delight and joy, especially as the vampire was going into a fit, going crazy as he began gulping the enzymes and blood flowing from his mouth. The reason for this was the fact the enzyme was like a narcotic to the vampires, and with the amount coming out of the single hole in his mouth, the vampire was being deluged with it.

Harry had had enough, and got up. "Put him out of his misery, uncle."

"No."

Harry wasn't done yet, but his uncle turned to him as he approached the vampire. "I told you, let him be." Alex's tone was icy as the wind outside.

Harry looked at him and finally lost it, "What the fuck is your problem, Alex? Look at him!" He pointed towards the vampire. Alex looked over coldly at the vampire, and answered, "He should be grateful he's a vampire, else I would be using a blowtorch on him." 

Harry was fed up by now, and drew his Browning, intending on putting on a round between the Russian's eyes. Alex was faster, and knocked it out of Harry's hand. Harry wasn't expecting his uncle to strike him, and was even more surprised when his uncle grabbed him by the lapels of his half-robe and slammed him against the wall. Alex's eyes were ablaze with fury. "You think you're better then me because I'm torturing this fuck? That you're better because you have this idea of mercy, and chivalry?" He was speaking so loudly and closely Harry could feel the spittle flicker on his face. Harry glared at him, "Just fucking kill him, no one deserves that." Another gesture to the slobbering vampire. 

Alex's eyes were still ablaze, "Come see me ten years from now, when you've lost someone dear to you. See how self-righteous you are then." He let go, and picked up Harry's sidearm. Alex turned his back on Harry and said, his voice calmed down by then. "If you don't wish to witness this, go. If not, then stay, the choice is yours."

Harry, shook up and disgusted by the whole affair, straightened his robes and went to the door. As he went up the stairs, the last thing he heard from his uncle was "Now, now, where were we, Mr. Chernenko."

Going up the stairs at almost a run, Harry ran through the halls and into one of the inner courtyards of Hogwarts. His mind was burning, trying to figure out what could drive his uncle to such depths. Harry had killed before, but this torture was a horse of another color all together. The whole affair left him feeling unclean.

Looking around, Harry saw that the courtyard was white with snow and that it was lightening up; he remembered it snowing as they came in. Standing in the courtyard near a fountain, Harry remembered standing in that very spot with Hedwig, during his first winter at that very same time. The thought made him feel cleaner, thinking of a more innocent time.

His inner revelry was broken up as he felt a snowball hit his head. Whirling around, he saw it was Ginny, dressed in a robe and laughing. Harry smiled, picked up some snow, and chased her. She threw another at him, and then squealed as Harry embraced her, and pushed some in her hair. The two of them laughed, as Harry held on to her, trying to forget the horrors he had witnessed. After a moment, they broke apart, as both knew of the game they had no choice but to play. Yet as they broke apart, the two whispered, "I love you." 

And Harry's world seemed to settle down, his mind at somewhat more ease. 


	25. Chapter XXV: A Father's Son

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXV: A Father's Son 

Five December wasn't a good day for Harry. He had been awake since 0400 the previous morning, and had been hoping to catch some sleep since it was a weekend. That, however, hadn't been the case. After he had broken away from Ginny (it had been about seven thirty, he had been up about twenty-seven and a half hours by then and was staying awake on equal parts adrenaline, and willpower) in the courtyard, telling her that he was going to go wash and maybe catch some sleep, Harry had been waylaid in the shower by Dean Thomas. Dean had told him Dumbeldore had sent for him, and that he was to report, immediately, to the Headmaster's office.

Harry had rolled his sore eyes, and told Dean he would do so. Throwing on a clean set of his school robes, Harry had transferred his badge from his dirty school uniform to the clean set, and made his way to the Headmaster's office. It took him a moment to remember the week's password. 

"Orange Fizzle"

The staircase opened up before him, and stifling a yawn, Harry walked up the steps towards the Headmaster's office. Inwardly, he was torn up still about his uncle, even though Ginny had temporarily made him forget about it. Still, he knew that Dumbledore was probably calling him in there to go over what happened the previous night. With a bit of luck, Snape would be there as well, and he would finally get some damn answers as to just what had happened the other night.

Yet, for the umpteenth time in the past forty-eight hours, Harry was surprised, as while Dumbledore was there, there only three other people in that room, and none of whom Harry knew were friendly. There was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father, who glared malevolently at Harry. Harry noticed he had shaved off the bushy brown beard of his; this only gave him a more malevolent look. Besides him was the cold, bookish form of Percy Weasley. Harry smiled at him, hoping to see if there was some warmth there (Harry had known the man the first three years he was in Hogwarts, and back then he had been friendly enough), but all he got back was coldness. The final person in the room was a squat, brown-haired woman with a pale, unsmiling face and the eyes of Neville's toad. Harry assumed this woman was the 'human tapeworm' Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. Judging by the way some of the portraits in the Headmaster's office were looking at her, they weren't favorably impressed with her either.

Ignoring her, Harry went to the front of Dumbledore's desk, behind which reclined Dumbledore, his eyes and face expressionless. "Sir, reporting as ordered."

"Harry, this Amos Diggory, Percy Weasley, and Dolores Umbridge from the Ministry of Magic. I believe they wish to question you of the events of last night." Dumbledore said to Harry, his tone neutral. Dumbledore looked at Harry, and asked, in a concerned tone, "However, if you…" He was stopped by the sound of a cough from Umbridge. Dumbledore looked at her, his eyes expressionless over his glasses, "Yes, Ms. Umbridge?"

Umbridge smiled at Dumbledore, and answered in a tone that was high-pitched and girlish, the way her smile was. "My apologies Headmaster, but we really need to begin our enquiries. Surely you could allow us some privacy to begin?" Before Dumbeldore could respond, Harry looked at Umbridge icily and told her, "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but I request that the Headmaster be present during your enquiries." Diggory glared at Harry, Harry glared back. He had been awake a little over twenty-four hours, to say he was tired, irritable would be an understatement, and had just killed a couple of people. At the moment, he was in no mood for any bullshit whatsoever. 

Dumbeldore nodded, "Under Ministry legal guidelines, he is entitled to legal representation. I do believe that as a member of the Wizangamot," Dumbledore was referring to the judicial body of the British wizarding world, "I can be his representation." He paused, and his eyes bored into Umbridge's "Unless, of course, you are invoking the articles regarding the suspension of legal rights under the Terrorism Act of 1971, and the Official Secrets Act of 1912?" Diggory and Umbridge looked ready to say yes, but Dumbeldore continued, "Though that will mean, of course, a public announcement of it, as well as the circumstances behind it in the press." He made it sound professional, but Harry knew a shot across the bow as well as anyone.

Umbridge smiled her smile again. Harry was already beginning to despise it. "Oh, no need for that. We have already examined the physical evidence, and there is nothing to indicate that it was nothing more then a large-scale attack by the vampire population of Great Britain assisted by a foreign Dark wizard. A very, isolated incident, which was fortunate in that no one was killed or seriously injured." Harry lost it there and then. Stepping forward, he was boiling with rage as Diggory blocked his way. Diggory outweighed him by a good thirty pounds was taller then him by a good four inches and was staring at him with an expression that seemed to be hoping for a fight, but Harry was having none of it. Matching Diggory's stare with one of his own, Harry spoke up. "Madam, the Regiment of Broken Hill under Legate Bladvak lost fifteen of their strength. Eight more are in the hospital."  

"They are not human." Harry's rage was like a boiler now: anything Umbridge said stoked it.

"Tell me, then," he asked acidly, "I suppose Neville Longbottom, who took a Stunner to the chest and has a couple of broken ribs to prove it doesn't count as well? Or how about our American exchange student Doc Detibedeux, who is going to be spending the next five months on crutches as his ankle heals?"

Percy looked at Harry with disgust, Diggory spoke to him, "Now see here, Potter, you are talking to the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, you will treat her with respect!" Diggory's voice rose as he spoke. Harry looked at him for a moment before telling him, in a conversational voice that dripped of contempt, "Go fuck yourself, Diggory." Several of the portraits on the wall looked shocked. That of one labeled Phineas Nigellus merely looked at Harry, and shook his head slowly.

Dumbeldore intervened before things could get any worse. "I believe that Miss Umbridge did not wish to disparage the memory of those goblin gentlemen who gave their lives in the line of duty, Harry. And Amos, do forgive Harry's rash remark as he hasn't slept in more then twenty-four hours, and just went through a most traumatic experience, so please be understanding." Diggory backed away, though he continued to give Harry the gimlet eye.

With a sigh, Dumbeldore rose and conjured motioned for everyone to take seats in several of the chairs that were in his office. "You may begin at your pleasure, Madam Umbridge."

She smiled, and turned to Harry, who had made himself comfortable in a chair near one of the windows. Percy, using seating himself at a coffee table, put down a roll of parchment and a dictation quill, along with a Salazar Eye. Diggory continued to stand, and glare malevolently at Harry.

"Now, Mr. Potter, state your full name, house and title for the record."

"Harold James Potter, Gryffindor, Student Head of Hogwarts Security" 

"Are you aware of what a vampire looks like?'

For the next three hours, they grilled him over any topic under the sun. Harry's competence as Head of Student Security, his knowledge of vampires, foreign Dark magic organizations, the chronology of events, how two of the foreign dark wizards had escaped (Harry couldn't tell them that the other was floating somewhere in the North Sea with his face burnt crisp, and his teeth exploded), and countless details.

By the time Umbridge concluded that she had had enough information from Harry, Harry started to rise, but Diggory put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. If it wasn't for the fact Dumbeldore was present, Harry probably would have broke that hand for Diggory, but instead (due no doubt as his mind was rapidly approaching shutdown) sat down, and said, "I believe the Undersecretary just said there were no further questions for me." Diggory grinned maliciously, "Perhaps for this incident, but you still have yet to be questioned in regards to the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, as well as the death of my son." 

Harry was fed up having had to verbally and mentally spar with the bastard all morning, and decided (since he though Diggory's main beef with him was his belief Harry had killed Diggory instead of Voldemort) to just go ahead and answer any questions he may have had. "Go ahead then Diggory, I have nothing to hide." Diggory gave a thin smile, and began to ask his questions.

This one lasted another hour and a half. During that time, Harry had to relieve not only the night of the third task, but events previously before. Diggory showed no mercy: he asked questions about Harry's mental health, what dreams he had had, whether or not he had been having problems with his girlfriend (Diggory had been surprised to discover, that no, Harry and Hermione hadn't been a goddamn item.), what Harry 'thought' happened. Even though five _seconds_ into the questioning Harry knew that he was the primary focus of the investigation, he reigned in his temper and kept on answering the questions put before him.

Have you wet the bed recently?

Have you had kept clippings from the newssheets dealing with you?

Are you partaking of muggle mind-altering drugs, to include heroin, methadone, and hallucinogens?

Not since I was two, no, and no. Finally, Diggory said, "I don't have any further questions." He paused, and then said, "For now."

Harry looked over at Dumbeldore and said, I'm going to be going to get a bit to eat and then go to bed, sir." Dumbeldore nodded, and thanked him for his patience. Turning for the door, Harry was stopped one more time by Diggory, "Did you want my son to die, Harry?" 

Harry looked him straight in the eye, and gave him the answer he had given Cho. "Did I wish him ill because I was treated like shit whilst the man bested me at Quidditch and took the girl I wanted to go out with to the Ball? Yes, for I'm only human. Did I want him to die? No, of course not for what I felt was simple jealousy..."

"How do you know you, murdering bastard?" Diggory was all but spitting this at him. Harry was non-pulsed. Before he turned and left for the door, he gave Diggory a cool look and said, "A fellow student asked the same question about me killing your son…when I told her my answer, she said it should have been me. You know what? That's something I, too, agree with."

Without another word, he went out of Dumbeldore's office and made his way back to the common room. 

_Fuck that hurts_, Harry swore to himself as he felt his eyes sting. It was daylight out there, and he decided to look at his watch. 1130. He had been up about twenty-seven hours, and his eyes felt like they were on fire. While he hadn't eaten in almost as long, he wasn't too hungry and decided that as soon as he made his way back to the dorm, the first thing he would do was change and go straight to bed.

It was that thought that drove Harry on, staggering, his mind in a fog-like daze after the stress of the previous day, and about four and a half hours of interrogation. He made it the picture of the Fat Lady, mumbled the password, and entered to find a relatively empty common room. Most of them started asking him questions about the previous night; Harry mumbled incoherently (_Christ, I must be losing if even _I _can't understand myself_, Harry thought) and staggered to his room. "Need a hand, Harry?" Harry vaguely recognized the voice of Dean Thomas, who was wearing a West Ham sweatshirt, and jeans. Stumbling up the stairs, he waved him off, and somehow located his bed. Sitting down on it, he managed to kick off his shoes and take off his half-robe.

Harry leaned back on his bed's headboard, and tried to take off his glasses but felt himself closing his eyes.

_Give me a minute to…_Harry thought as fell asleep.

            *          *          *

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. At the moment, his mind was like a blank piece of slate, and it took him a while to remember just what the hell had been happening. Raising himself up on a one hand, Harry realized that he had been lying down. Last he had remembered, he had been sitting against the headboard, and that…_Wait, where's my glasses? And who took off my tie and loosened my belt?_ Harry just noticed this, and in the blurred haze that was his vision groped around for his glasses. Finding them on the side table, Harry put them on and saw that it was almost seven at night, judging by his watch (which was somehow sitting open next to his glasses). Dinner was probably starting soon.

"Are you all right, Harry?" 

Harry looked up; it was Ginny, dressed in her school robes. In her hand was a glass of water, which she gave to him, as he sat up. "Thanks, Gin." Harry drank the water in one long gulp; he was thirsty now that he had awoken. Ginny came over, and embraced Harry, his head resting on her breasts. Harry took a moment to relax in the softness of her bosom before he looked up into her brown eyes, which looked back with happiness, love, and tenderness.

"Ginny, not that I'm complaining, but we really should get away, Dean, Seamus, or your brother could walk…"

She giggled, "Not to worry, I set one of Fred and George's inventions on the bottom of the staircase, so that anyone stepping on it will hear a loud bang. 'Sides, everyone else is at dinner, and I told Hermione and Ron I was going see if you were awake yet." Harry took a moment to think things through. In an instant, he grinned, pulled her closer to him, and had his and her lips locked together. She was just as enthusiastically kissing him, and both settled on to the softness of Harry's bed. 

Ginny was running her hands through Harry's hair, Harry just as enthusiastically running his hands along her sides, and down her legs. It was then Harry stopped and broke away. He had put a hand on the edge of her skirt and had been sliding it due north. Pulling it away, he looked down at Ginny, and said sheepishly, "Sorry Gin, I…" Ginny laughed, "I was enjoying that." She played with one of Harry's ears, the two of them still in each other's arms, and looking at the other.

Ginny smile became mischievous, "You know, Harry, I was listening to some of the older girls, Katie and Angelina and a few others talking about what they do with their boyfriends. Not _that_ mind you, but close enough."

"Oh?" Harry's curiosity was piqued.

Ginny, her face smiling mischievously leaned forward and whispered into his ear. Harry laughed, than grew serious. "Are you sure of this, Gin? I mean, it's not that far from going all the way, and the last thing I want is to pressure you into something…"

Ginny caressed Harry's face and laughingly asked, "A prude are we?" Harry snorted and Ginny continued, "I trust you, Harry, and believe me," her freckled face and red hair was glowing, "I am curious." Harry smiled, leaned forward to kiss her, and felt Ginny relax in his arms…

            *          *          *

An hour later, Harry found himself walking towards the War Room, whistling an obscenely cheerful marching song. After he and Ginny had finished what they had been doing, Ginny had left the room in an even more jovial mood then he was, and Harry was pretty damn happy. Eight hours of sleep, talking with his girl, and…_I suppose having it done on you by the most beautiful girl in this goddamn world beats having to do it yourself with one hand, and the other holding an issue of _Penthouse_._ _Not to mention the fact that she was as curious of me as I was of her, though I wonder_…_would it be appropriate to call it heavy petting, or what?_

What they had been doing for about fifteen minutes had been the closet they had come to going all the way, and Harry had enjoyed it immensely. He knew Ginny had too, for after they were done she seemed to glow, and her face and smile radiated like the sun. Harry hoped no one noticed, as they were still playing the game as after a half-hour of talking, he had seen her to the common room and told her to go back to the Hall. Her reason for being about an hour late: she had lost a  textbook and spent a bunch of time looking for it in her room. Were Harry a normal teen, and didn't have to keep something like this a goddamn secret, they probably would have been still busy, but…

Harry reached the door, but as he opened it, he couldn't help but feel a tingling in the fore, middle fingers and thumb of his right hand; in his ears, he could hear the sound of Ginny moaning and the way her fingers had…_Snap out of it, Harry. Keep your mind on the business at hand. _After taking a moment to breath deeply, he opened the door and entered the room. The place seemed to be its usual busy self, though most of the goblins took a moment to give Harry a friendly nod. None of them seemed fazed by the previous night's firefight; like the men of 2nd Para, Bravo Company, 2nd Platoon, they were professionals who knew death might one day be part of the bargain.

Going over to the conference table, Harry saw that only Snape was there. Snape seemed to be moodily sipping a cup of tea, and staring into the table. "Mr. Potter," Snape greeted Harry, his tone neutral. "Sir" Harry replied as he took his seat. Snape raised his eyes away from his tea, and spoke. "I understand the target of last night's attack was my daughter. I…" He trailed off, and Harry knew what was irritating him. "Sir, you should thank Neville and Doc; were it not for them…" A shrug. Snape didn't answer, and sipped from his tea. He looked over at Harry, "I understand that the leader told a very…gruesome tale to my daughter." He made it sound as though it were a question. Nodding, Harry asked, "Have you talked with Katrina about it, sir?" Snape shook his head, "No, I myself just arrived from the most recent summoning by the Dark Lord. He was most…displeased at the failure of this test." 

"Test?"

"Apparently, there was a feeling that there is a leak within the organization. My daughter was to have been taken, and interrogated to determine my…loyalties." Snape's lips were drawn back in snarl as he said this. He turned towards Harry, "Apparently, it wasn't taken into consideration that an arrogant ass, a couple of crazed lunatics, and two morons would be there to protect her, not to mention a know-it-all." Harry almost exploded: here was a man who damn near loses his daughter, and has the balls to insult the people who did so.

It took but a second for Harry to realize what was going on, and that angered him even further.

"Sir," he asked coldly, "ever since the first day I've set foot in this school you have gone out of your way to humiliate, degrade, and belittle myself and my friends, to include trying to see us expelled from our school. I know that you and my father were enemies, so let me ask you a simple question: what did my father do to you that caused you to pursue a vendetta against his son, i.e. me." Snape eye's bored into Harry's; Harry glared right back. A cold smile played over Snape's face. 

"How so like your father, Potter, arrogance personified. Tell me, what sort of man do you think your father was?"

"A better one then you, that much for sure."

Snape continued to smile. "I presume that is what the werewolf and the mutt tell you, no? That your father is a man who can walk on water, yes?"

Harry didn't deign to give that an answer.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment, and then continued, "If you truly wish to know…Are you aware of what a Pensieve is, Potter?"

"A device to playback memories."

Snape gave a shark-like grin. "Then care to step into the past, and see your father for what he truly was worth?"

_You know there's an ambush here, but fuck it, only way to deal with one is to either run through it, or fight through it_.

It took Harry only a minute to decide.

"What are we waiting for?"

            *          *          *

Half an hour later, Harry found himself hurling into a memory. After accepting Snape's offer, they had gone down to the Potions lab, and in Snape's office, Harry had put his face into the Pensieve. Snape had stood back, and asked Harry if he was capable of handling the truth; Harry had told him he probably knew more of the truth then Snape would care to admit. 

Onwards he went, until he found himself standing in what he recognized as the Great Hall, only where there had been the four tables of the individual houses, there were now a hundred or so smaller desks. Harry slowly did a 360 look around the place.

_Okay, students, students, it look's like old man Flitwick back there…_ Harry stopped, as behind him was what was definitely a younger version of Snape, with the usual hooked nose, sallow skin, and oily black hair. The man seemed to be hard at work on a bit of parchment. Harry studied the date at the top, along with the title: DADA OWL Exam; June 24, 1976. _Fifth year, then_, Harry thought to himself. Out of curiosity, he looked around.

He found his father towards the front of the classroom, and Harry looked at him in shock. For years, he had heard that he looked uncannily like his father, and it was all too true. Except for the eyes, and the fact James lacked a lightning bolt scar, they could have passed off for twins. _Yet, there's something about him_…Harry thought. 

Looking around Harry spotted Sirius Black, handsome and debonair. It was clear to Harry, since girls on all sides surrounded him and all were giving him a look or two, that Sirius had been a lady's man or pretty boy back in the day. Still looking, Harry saw the thin, peaky form of Remus Lupin, concentrating hard on his paper. _Just like Hermione would be doing_, Harry thought to himself. Finally, Harry spotted the rat, Peter Pettigrew. Watching him, Harry had to wonder as to how the hell his father and his friends (Sirius and Remus) could allow such a miserable looking bastard like that to be a friend of theirs.

After a few moments, the exams ended, and people began filing out of the classroom. Harry followed Snape, and pleasantly discovered that it was possible to maintain a distance between the two so that he could see and hear both of them. Snape, with his nose in a book, was mercifully quiet as Harry followed the Marauders. It was fortunate that both were going in the same direction, as Harry listened to the Marauders talk of their tests.

Eventually, they stopped before a beech tree (slightly away from the oak Harry and Ginny liked to spend their time under) where James pulled out a Snitch. "Where you get it?" Sirius asked, looking bored. "Nicked it," James responded carelessly. Remus was reading a textbook; Pettigrew it seemed, was clapping his hands and being an all-around boot-licker as James played with the Snitch. Harry noticed James had great reflexes, yet he kept releasing it and catching it again. Pettigrew was clapping and cheering, much to Harry's annoyance. James, though, seemed to be reveling in it, and also seemed to be in the habit of rumpling his hair and casting a glance every so often across the lake. 

Harry noticed there were a number of girls there. _Easy there, if you want to wrinkle some sheets then go to Meg's…Or haven't you people discovered it yet_, Harry thought to himself. Watching his father, Harry thought he acted a bit, well…_Christ, what a fucking dunce._

Snape was immersed reading a textbook of some sort as well, only he was a bit further away in the shadow of a clump of bushes. 

After a moment, James stopped playing with the Snitch as Sirius complained of Wormtail getting annoying. Sirius explained he was bored; he hoped another full moon would happen soon, maybe go to a place in Soho he had heard of called _Meg's_. It was then James said, "This'll liven you up, Padfoot. Look who it is…" It was Snape, the man was walking across the grass from the shadows of the bushes. "Excellent, Snivellus." Sirius seemed excited, wound up like a clock.

As Snape walked, James and Sirius got up and moved towards him. James yelled, "All right, Snivellus?" Snape reacted like mercury; he dropped his bag and was drawing his wand when he was hit by jinxes and hexes from Sirius and James; his wand went flying. James and Sirius seemed to be enjoying it, especially as a crowd of students gathered to watch. Looking at their expressions, it was clear that Snape was no more popular as a student then he was now as a teacher. 

James and Sirius started mockingly talking to Snape over the OWLs. Snape responded with a mixture of words that included hexes, curses, and such niceties as "goddamn motherfucking, son of a whore dogshit". His little tirade was cut short as James jinxed him so that he started spewing forth a stream of pink, soapy bubbles.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" A girl with dark, red hair and green, almond-shaped eyes stormed towards them. Harry knew it was his mother.

"Can I help you, Evans?" Harry noticed that his father's voice seemed to have changed when his mom now that his mom was near. 

Lilly wanted them to leave Snape alone, asking what he had done to them, her voice full of dislike towards James. James merely shrugged, "Well, it's more the fact he exists, if you know what I mean…" Lilly called him an arrogant, bullying toe-rag, and demanded they stop their activities with Snape. James offered to stop if she went out with him; Lilly told him he would lose if the choice were between him and the giant squid.

Sirius remarked, "Tough shit, James." Snape by than, had crawled to his wand and shot a curse of some sort at James; blood splattered as a gash opened up on James's cheek. The two Gryffindors fired another series of hexes and jinxes at Snape, this time he was hanging upside down, his trousers hanging down so that his underwear was visible. 

The crowd was delighted by the way things were turning out. Lilly continued to yell at James, ordering him to release Snape. James, with a bored expression on his face, did so, and told Snape he was bloody lucky Evans was at hand. Snape spat back, "I don't need any fucking help from mudbloods like her!"

Hell broke loose once again. Lilly coldly told him she wouldn't bother the next time around, and then stopped as Snape was once again upended above the earth, James demanding he apologize. 

Lilly yelled at James, saying he was no better then Snape. James hotly denied it, saying he would never call her that. Lilly stomped off; Sirius stated the obvious. "Guess she thinks you're a mitt conceited, mate."

James seemed irritated, and continued to muss his hair. "Right…Anyone want to see what Snivelly's looks like without his pants?" Harry wasn't able to see what happened next, for a strong arm was pulling him back to the surface. In a moment, he found himself staring into the hate-filled face of Snape. Snape looked at Harry, "An amusing man, your father, wasn't he?" Harry glared back, though he had to admit Snape was right. Everything bad thing that he had said about his father had been confirmed, and Harry wasn't sure what to think right now. Snape had been humiliated, embarrassed, singled out and bullied; Harry had been there, and had it happen as well. 

Harry wasn't in the mood to listen to Snape's mockery, so he turned and head for the door. Snape called out to him, "You will not tell anyone what…" Snape was cut off as Harry whirled, and spoke, his tone icy, "Have no fear of that Snape." The potions master wasn't done yet though.

"Well, is Potter afraid of what will be thought if his father's true colors were shown? That the so-called bravest and boldest of Gryffindor were merely a bunch of thugs and bullies?"

"Oh, no, _sir_, I won't tell because you've earned the right, because of what you do." Harry paused, and matched the stare Snape was giving him. Part of him wanted to grab Snape by the scruff of his reedy neck and tear into him the way he had been trained, but he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, for Snape was a hard bastard doing a hard job, not to mention his daughter Katrina was a friend of his, and the woman of a man who had saved his ass. So, Harry did the only thing he could do: he waited until Snape blinked, and went for the throat.

"You know, I never knew my father, but you…tell me, was yours a better man then my own? Was he what molded and forged you into the man you are today, the way you no doubt think James Potter molded me?" Snape's eyes flashed, but Harry couldn't care less as he turned and left the office. 

            *          *          *

Harry walked quickly towards the History of Magic classroom, as he desperately needed to use the fireplace there. Inwardly he was boiling pot of emotion.

_Why was my father a bullying bastard? And my mother, she hated him!_ Harry thought to himself. Another quieter voice also seemed to be speaking in his, this one gruffer, and sounding old Dick Longbottom, the phlegmatic sergeant who had seen it all and done it all years earlier. _Ye think that people will be cruel enough to say to an orphan asking of his parents that 'why yes, your father was a bullying bastard who hexed and cursed and jinxed for the fun of it?' Be real lad, be real…_

Opening the door, he found it was mercifully empty, Alex nowhere in sight. Going over to the fireplace, Harry opened a small packet of course-ground Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. Moody had shown him the trick of packing a ten minute charge of Floo powder into a piece of paper and carrying it with him as part of his tradecraft training. 

After that packet, Harry tossed in a small vial of a blue powder. The flames turned into a bluish color, much the same color as a blue chemical light. "Number 12 Grimmauld," Harry spoke clearly into the fire. The security measures in place by Dumbledore ensured that once he knew the secret, he could immediately contact the place using a regular floo network. The blue powder was the magical equivalent of a scrambling device, ensuring that no one could listen in on their conversation or trace it. 

Soon enough, the faces of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black arrived in the flames. "Hello, Harry you all right? We heard from the Headmaster of what happened in the…" Harry impatiently waved it off, "We had a bit of a dust-up, and two good friends of mine are in the hospital. Not to mention we have a morgue full of dead goblins, but that isn't why I called you." Sirius and Remus looked at each other, "Then what was it you wanted to talk about?" Remus asked. Harry as quickly and efficiently described what Snape had showed him. 

Harry ended with a harsh laugh, "So, I guess that slimy goddamn git of a Potions master was right all along? Funny thing is, I actually sympathize with the bastard since I've had similar happen to me" 

"Harry, you shouldn't judge your father, he was only fifteen." 

Harry snorted, "_I'm_ fifteen, in case you forgot." Remus spoke, "You shouldn't judge your father, him and Snape hated each other from the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express. It didn't help later that your father and Sirius were the coolest, most popular in the school, whilst Snape was well…"

"A greasy, shit who was up to his dick in the Dark Arts," Sirius responded venomously. Harry shook his head, as after some of the shit he had learned as part of the Auror's training, he had to wonder where Light ended and Dark began. Alex had told him that all magic was gray, that only the user determined if it was good or bad. But after what happened in the dungeon…

"He was always messing with his hair." Harry sounded pained as he said it.

Sirius and Remus laughed, "God, I forgot he used to do that!" Remus asked, "Was he playing with a Snitch?" Harry nodded, "Yeah, and he looked like a goddamn fool." 

"We all are at that age, Harry." Harry shook his head, and asked, "What of my mother, she _hated _him. How the fuck did they get together?" 

"She didn't hate your father."

"No, they got along damn well, once James deflated his head a bit…"

"Yeah, and due to a lot of help from Alex. I think if it wasn't for him those two would have kept on fighting their whole damn lives." Harry, feeling as though his head might fall off, shook his head for who knew who how many times already that day. 

Sirius asked, "Anyhow, we heard that was one hell of a dust-up at Hogsmeade. Care to tell us about it?" Harry grimaced, "Not much to tell as Madame Rosemerta's in the Infirmary along with Nev Longbottom and Doc the Yank exchange student. Other then that…" He shrugged. Sirius and Remus told him to cheer up, and Harry was about to ask a few, rather pointed questions about his father (whom he was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to imitate) when he heard footsteps in the hallway. 

"Look someone's coming, so take care all right?"

"Yeah, you too, Harry. You coming by for Christmas?"

"Don't know yet, have to talk with the Headmaster and Moody about it. When I know, so will you, Sirius."

"Bye, Harry."

"Bye Sirius, bye Remus."

Harry took a poker from a wall rack, and stirred the ashes as the link died. The conversation got him thinking, as he actually felt a touch of sympathy to Snape, and thought how in the years before James had held an almost sacred place in his life; that he should be the yardstick to measure his life…

_Yeah, good standard, measure yourself against a fucking bully_.

Harry went to a seat near the teacher's desk, as he had the sneaky suspicion that it would be his uncle. Despite the revulsion he felt over the interrogation of the vampire, he was curious to see if his uncle had extracted any useful information from the man. While the methods may have been brutal, any information…

_Shit, what the fuck is the matter with you, Harry! Are you becoming an amoral bastard for whom anything and everything is a means to an end?_ Harry thought to himself angrily. Part of him knew that the bastards they were fighting were cruel, heartless, and brutal fucks to whom there were no limits in order to accomplish their ends. Yet, was it worth it to fight a ruthless, savage enemy by being just as ruthless, and just as savage? Harry hoped that he wouldn't find out the answer to that question, but knew that he probably would before Voldemort was finished off.

Sure enough though, it was Uncle Alex who walked into the classroom, his magical eye swiveling. He spotted Harry, and smiled. "Hello, Harry." Harry kept his mouth shut, and gave him the gimlet eye. Alex kept his magical eye on him as he went behind his desk, and removed two small glass tumblers, and a bottle of Scotch. With a deft hand, he poured an inch worth of into one, and looked towards Harry. "Drink?" Harry nodded, and Alex poured an inch into the other glass. 

Alex sipped from his glass as he slid one over to the edge of the desk, and asked, "You still pissed off over the interrogation?" Harry glared at his uncle, as he tasted the smooth, smoky taste of the whiskey. "So what happened after you threw me out? Did you have to use a fucking lead pipe and blowtorch on him after all?" 

"No, turns out he really didn't know much that we ourselves don't already know. He received his orders following a gathering of Death Eaters in a vampire coven in Dorset. This was the first major operation since he arrived in England last year, as his work for Golovko was principally one of bouncers, guarding covens and the lot. Didn't have anything much else to say by then, so I ended it." 

Alex sipped his whiskey, "If you're wondering what I did afterwards, have no fear, he died quick if not painless." 

"What did you do?"

"Stuck a silver stake into his heart, transfigured him into a quill, took him to the top of the Astronomy tower during breakfast, and then transfigured him back." Alex shrugged, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."   

Harry couldn't take it anymore, and wanted to ask his uncle just what the fuck the whole purpose of his interrogation had been. Alex beat him to it, "You wondering why I did what I did?" Harry was slightly relieved his uncle said it, for he doubted if he could have done so without yelling, and nodded yes. "Three reasons Harry: One, the ministry was on our ass, as the little gunfight you set up had magical sensors throughout the whole bloody country ringing. If he had fallen into the MOM's hands, we would know nothing compared to the little we know now. Second," Alex's tone was steel now. "I wanted to impress upon you the point that the SERE and Occlumency you lessons are taking are necessary…we're not fucking around here, Harry. There are sick fucks out there who would do worse then what I did, and do it to you, and unlike what I did, you'd have a much harder time recovering. Finally, you may have noticed I constantly asked of an individual named Mueller, yes?" Harry nodded, and asked, "Who is he?'

"A vampire with whom I have a score to settle, which I will go to any lengths to do so. Any other questions, or comments?" Harry thought over what his uncle said, and decided that while he couldn't agree with his uncle's use of torture, he understood the reasons for it. Nodding his head, he said he was sorry for acting like a shit over it, that next time he wouldn't be sitting in an interrogation, and updated his uncle on what happened in Dumbledore's office. Alex didn't seem to be bothered by this. 

"We all knew that you and the Headmaster were going to be targets of a possible character assassination campaign by Fudge. However, if they were to publish results against you, coupled with the shit in the papers, then it will become blatantly obvious to every wizard and witch in the land just what sort of game Fudge is playing. No, all they'll do is investigate, and keep throwing question marks above our heads, but we can live with that."

Harry then told his uncle of what Snape had showed him, and the rather inconclusive conversation he had had with Remus and Sirius. "You know, uncle, I used to think that I wanted to be like my father, that he was…Ah fuck, I don't know, I just didn't think I would see the day where I had sympathy for that prick Snape." Alex listened to Harry, and sipped his drink. Looking over at his nephew, he asked, "Tell me, Harry, how a blade is created?"

Harry wondered what the hell the point of that question, but answered anyways of how a piece of iron was smelted into steel, and from there forged, tempered, and sharpened until a deadly blade was created. Alex waited until Harry was finished before he spoke. "Harry, when a blade is cast in a mould, you can cast it in the same mold as the other blades, and try to duplicate it like the one before, it won't be the same thing. It will have it's own flaws, and it's own weaknesses. Yet in the end, it will still be a blade, and all blades can be good ones."

Looking Harry in the eye, Alex said, "Lad, our fathers are like the mold: we are born of it, but it is the forge and hammers and bellows of life that ultimately shape us into the men we become. A father, or the image of a father which we are told of, is but a role-model to guide us."

"How was my father a good role-model, did you see how much of an arrogant asshole he was?"

Alex smiled, "Your father was an arrogant bastard, a bully to anyone who had the misfortune of being called an enemy, and a man to whom Quidditch, going out, probably fucking, with my sister, and his friends were the world and the devil take the rest." Alex sipped his whiskey, his smile still on his face; "He was also one of the bravest, loyalist, and charming individuals I have ever had the privilege of knowing, even though he initially became my friend as part of his attempts to get to Lilly. He drank and whored and roared with the best of us, and he was one of the best friends I ever had. He was like the rest of us: a man. Can you understand that?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Then understand this: our fathers may be the mold from which we are cast, but ultimately, it is the decisions and choices we make, as well as the experiences we go through, that shape us into the people we are. It is up to you how you want to turn out." 

"All right, thanks Alex." 

Alex wasn't done though, "I hope you understand that I'm not telling you to denigrate the memory of your father. All I'm saying he was, like the rest, a man with strengths and flaws, and even though you never met, you should at least respect his memory, and honor him as a son should. You're not the only who has had to learn of his father secondhand."

Harry nodded, but asked out of curiosity, "What do you mean by that last bit? Who do you know that has had to learn of his father that way?"

Alex sipped from his drink, "Me and your mother, Harry." Harry was stunned, but before he could say anything, Alex got up and went into the back room. Alex returned carrying a small black photo album. He looked Harry in the eyes. "Tell me, how much do you know of your grandparents, Harry, on your mum's side?"

Harry shrugged, "Aunt Petunia never mentioned them much. I think she said both of them were doctors?" Alex nodded, "They were. Doctor Geoff Evans, and Doctor Jane Hargrove Evans. Geoff was a surgeon, and Jane, our mother, was a psychiatrist." 

"You said your mother, you mean Geoff wasn't your father, my grandfather?"

Alex swirled his scotch, breathed deeply, his face deep in thought. "You ever wonder why your aunt never liked me and your mother much, Harry?" 

"I thought she was like Vernon, someone who just hates magic."

"Partly, but…I guess I have to tell the story from the beginning." Setting his whiskey tumbler down, he opened the album and pulled out a small photograph, and began to speak.

"Right, guess we start in 1944, India. Back then, that was the real home for the Army, and Geoff Evans and Jane Hargrove were both the children of serving soldiers. In Geoff's case, his father, Thomas Evans, was a Lieutenant Colonel in one of the Indian regiments; Jane's father was Edgar Hargroves of the Army Medical Corps. Geoff and Jane had been childhood friends, growing up in same cantonment outside of Lucknow, soon grew to be quite the couple. But, there was a war on, and Geoff wanted in. Since they allowed boy soldiers in the army back then, Geoff enlisted when after his fifteenth birthday in early 1944. Him, and his best friend, a man named Gerald Egan, the son of a British Sergeant who was seconded to one of the Gurkha regiments."

Alex slid the photo to Harry. Harry looked at it, and saw three people outside of a whitewashed house. Two were boys in the khaki tropical uniforms of the day, while one was a pretty dark-haired girl in a white or light blue dress. None of them looked older then fifteen. Harry noticed that man on the left, with his dark hair, looked a lot like Petunia, only in a far more friendly, kindly sort of way. The man on the right, though, looked like someone Harry knew, but couldn't place with dark, reddish, hair, and an easy grin on his face.

_Wait, he looks _really _familiar_…

Alex continued, "Anyhow, those two were sent to fight under Billy Slim in Burma, and by some miracle managed to survive the war unscathed. Afterwards, Geoff left the Army to pursue his education and became a surgeon, while Gerald stayed in, earning a commission, and then in Korea he won the MC on his twenty-second birthday when he was with the Royal Ulster Rifles at the Battle of the Imjin in 1951. The Glosters weren't the only ones to earn glory and honor that day."

Refilling his tumbler, Alex took a swallow of it, and continued. "Anyhow, during this whole time, Geoff and Jane were both in college in England. Geoff finally got certified as a surgeon in 1956, and took a commission in the Army Medical Corps, since he wanted to follow his father's footsteps. Not to mention old John Bull wanted his fair cut as the government loaned him the money to pay for his doctorate, so off to the Army as Thomas Evans wound up having to spend a large amount of money moving from India to England after we gave that country independence. Jane's father was better off, so she went into private practice. Since they had been going to the same medical school in Suffolk, Geoff proposed, and she accepted. Geoff then reported in at Aldershot, close to his dad's place."

Alex leaned back and stretched before he continued. "Now, during the time he reported in the Army was stretched thin with commitments in Malaysia, Aden, and Kenya. They needed a surgeon bad for one of the parachute battalions, as the Suez crisis was brewing and the Army was gearing up to invade Egypt. So, they gave him a week's worth of parachute training, and wished him good luck on the jump. On the second week of service to Crown and Country, he found himself in the back of an Avro York above the Mediterranean. Heading towards God knew what and praying that his chute opened, 'cause back then the crazy bastards in the Regiment used only one chute, and no reserve as they wanted to use the spare weight for more ammo. The only thing reassuring about the whole thing was that his best mate, a man who had fought with him in Burma was next to him. His name: Captain Gerald Egan of the 1st Battalion, Parachute Regiment." 

"I take it they survived?"

Alex took out a Lucky Strike, and lit it. He had a wry grin on his face. "I guess you could say that since Lilly, me and Petunia are here. Anyhow, after that little fiasco in Egypt, Geoff and Gerald went back to England, where Geoff married Jane. Gerald was the best man at their wedding. Gerald also arranged it so that they would go to their next posting together. Which was, unfortunately, Cyprus."

"Why was that unfortunate?"

"Around the time they went there, things had gone real bad as the Greeks wanted us to leave so that they and the Turks could go back to their age-old business of killing each other. Since we had prime real estate there, the Foreign Office told them to get fucked, and we had one of the most nasty guerilla wars ever on our hands." Harry noticed there was a real bit of venom in his voice, and looked at his uncle questioningly. Alex sipped his drink. "Whoresons attacked women and children of people serving there, so we weren't exactly gentle with the shits. Gerald was with one of the line regiments there running patrols in the hills, hunting guerillas, while Geoff worked as a surgeon. It was tough, hot, dirty work, but not everything was unhappy as Geoff and Jane's first child, Petunia, was born in 1957 at the RAF hospital. Things from there looked up though as the war got hotter, and it looked there would finally be a peace settlement as there were negotiations and a truce in late 1958. Yet…" 

He paused before continuing. "In every war out there, there are hiccups and fuck-ups out there. What happened to Geoff was one such thing. He was riding in the third Land Rover on this roving patrol in the hills the day before the truce was declared, but still things had been quiet. Anyhow, they were driving along when a mine detonated under the Rover. The driver was killed instantly, but Geoff…" 

Another slug of drink. "He survived, but the cost was…the blast from the mine created a shrapnel effect as parts of the car were driven upwards. Geoff kept his legs, but by the time they were through patching him up, he was a certified eunuch." Harry was stunned, as he suddenly realized the full impact of what his uncle was telling him. "So, who's my real grandfather, Alex? Is it…?" 

"In good time lad, in good time. Now, it took about six months for him to recover, with Jane supporting him as a good wife. The two loved each other deeply, but there was one problem…both of them wanted a large family, and even though Petunia was growing and something of a handful, they still wanted at least two more children. Now, they thought of adoption, but Geoff wanted his children to have a bit of Jane in them, if not any of him. In vitro fertilization was still being tried out back then, but had a high failure rate, not to mention the fact Geoff didn't have a sperm sample handy. Plus, Geoff knew that his wife was quietly frustrated, as he could no longer fulfill his functions as a husband in the bedroom even though she was taking it in stride. So, from what he told me when I was older before he died, they had a quiet word. Geoff let it be known he would understand if she went to another man. Jane then did the only thing she could do: she went and had an affair with a friend, someone whom she and Geoff had known for years and was a close friend, one who loved Jane as much as Geoff. This man became a surrogate father, and well…"

Alex looked at Harry straight in the face. " He fathered Lilly in 1960, and then me in 1962. Geoff couldn't care less, he loved me and Lilly and Petunia, though Petunia later thought that him and Ma treated us a little bit better then her, which may have been partly true since I guess Geoff felt somewhat guilty over the fact he wasn't our father. Then there was the magic bit when we turned eleven…" He paused, and drained his tumbler of his drink. "My father was Gerald Egan. I never met him, yet he was my father. Like you, I only learned what sort of man my father was later in life, as Geoff was on a deathbed. Geoff, he was a good, kind-hearted soul much like Arthur Weasley, and was everything a boy could want in a father. It was fair of him to give me the truth of who I am."

Alex got up and walked towards Harry. He took a desk next to Harry, and said. "Lad, I learned my father, the one whose blood flows in me, was a good man, a kind one, but like all of us he had his flaws. I learned to love him, and use him and Geoff, the man who raised me, as yardsticks to measure my life the last few years in Hogwarts. I learned later that his flaws included being one of the most ruthless guerilla hunters in the Army in Malaysia and later in Borneo, but by then I was a man grown and knew that all men have their dark sides. It's the nature of the beast, of man…"

He looked over at Harry, "Your father, like mine, was a good man in the end who loved the woman in his life. Without James, you wouldn't be here, and without Gerald, I wouldn't be here either. Both of them had their faults, but in the end, it doesn't matter for we have no say in who our father's are, and even if we did, is there such as a thing as a man without a wart of some sort in his past?" Alex paused, and finished, "Your father was a good man overall, and would be proud to see that you have the best parts of him and your mother, and never had that damned arrogance of his. Honor him and your mother both by living and loving your life, and that of your friends and women to the fullest, Harry. Remember that." Alex turned and cleaned up his album. He had turned and was walking towards his office when Harry asked a final question.

"What happened to Gerald, grandfather I mean?"

Alex stopped, and without turning told him. "He died in 1966, when I was four years old. It was during the guerilla war with Indonesia over Borneo. Gerald died when a Claret or cross-border raid went real bad on the border between Brunei and Indonesia. He led a platoon of Ghurkas into the jungle to cover the withdrawal of the raiding force, and during the retreat back into Sarawak, he was hit real bad in the stomach, very messy, gut shot. Since the Indonesians were fast approaching, he ordered his men to leave him behind. He had his wound dressed, and had another eighteen round magazine for his Armalite, this being the days before thirty round mags were common, so you only had a twenty round one, and that held only eighteen so you didn't fuck up the spring, left behind with him. His Ghurkhas did so, and they returned two days later, to bring back his body. They never found him." 

He turned his head to shoulder, and finished, "He's still out there, Harry, and a piece of Borneo will be forever British."

Alex went into the office, and Harry finished his drink, and left, his mind finally digesting what his uncle had just told him.


	26. Chapter XXVI: Yule Ball

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXVI: Yule Ball 

The days following were hectic ones due to the recent attack in Hogsmeade, the easy atmosphere of a holiday season gone. Neville was up and walking within a day of being hit and Doc was up and about on crutches though he was taking a special bone-setting potion every day, and his foot had to remain immobilized in a cast. Madame Rosemerta, likewise, was soon up and out the school infirmary as she set about renovating the damaged Three Broomsticks. She obviously didn't intend on letting something as trivial as a firefight and a bunch of dead vampires bother her business. 

As for that, it had come out in the Daily Prophet that unnamed Ministry of Magic personnel had thwarted an attack of vampires on the Three Broomsticks with no wizard casualties. There was no mention whatsoever of Hogwarts students, Russian or English Death Eaters, goblin mercenaries, or any investigation by Dolores Umbridge. Harry wasn't surprised by what that, nor by the sudden warming in student relations as everyone realized that he wasn't so goddamn crazy after all. While they might not believe Voldemort was back, at least the talk of him being a crazy, murderous bastard had been toned down after the near-death experiences of oh so many members of the student body. 

It became even more so when on the 6th it came out that during the fight in the Three Broomsticks, ten of the most vicious Death Eaters, all members of the Inner Circle, all high-ranking lieutenants in Voldemort's group, had somehow broken out of Azkaban. The attempted snatch of Katrina Snape on the night of the Fourth had been a decoy operation from the start. Based on reports from Tonks, Shacklebolt, and other sources within the Ministry, Fudge had allegedly been dancing with glee once he had heard the news that Harry may have been involved, as he apparently was going to use the incident to deal with Harry, Dumbledore and other assorted people.

Which was why he had been marshalling every Auror and member of the MOM outside of Hogsmeade…and turned control of Azkaban over to the Dementors for a temporary period of forty-eight hours. It was during that time frame that the ten Death Eaters had vanished. 

Alex had said he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to cry once he heard the word. Neville had merely grown quiet, and intense in the after-school training sessions of the Dueling and Muggle Self-Defense Club, as several of the Death Eaters had participated in the torture of his parents. Snape, at the meeting when it was revealed what had happened, had saved everyone the trouble of insulting Fudge by saying Fudge was a moron of epic proportions, and was quite likely going to get everyone killed.

Regarding Snape, Harry treated him respectfully, but avoided speaking to the man if possible. While he could understand just why Snape had a grudge against his father, and Sirius, and the others, he still remembered his own public humiliations. The perpetrator of several of those humiliations had been Mr. Severus Snape. For the sake of his friend Katrina, and for the respect he had for the man who was playing a game of double cross on behalf of his side, Harry kept his mouth shut and said as little as possible to the man; Snape reciprocated in kind. Harry sometimes wondered if his own father would approve of his actions, and then remembered what his uncle had told him.  

By now, he understood things about what his father had done. While he couldn't agree with them, he could and did view them with indifference as things that his father had done, and didn't concern him, and thought of James as a flawed, but overall good man. The way his uncle and Sirius, and Remus had painted him. Harry also thought of the men whom he had befriended during summer. They had been hard men, men who would drink, and whore, and find the sight of a man bleeding to death as amusing as a five-quid whore giving a blowjob. Yet, crude and rude and lewd and cruel they may have been, they had still shown a good side when they had treated Harry and Dudley and Neville like younger brothers, and equals. Harry reckoned that since he had seen through their flaws, he should do the same thing in regards to his father, and so far it had worked.   

Since he had never met his own father, Harry also remembered the conversation he had had with his uncle about the history of his mother's family. After learning of the struggles and sacrifices, not just of his own parents, but that of _their_ parents as well, had had to go through so that he could now walk the earth, Harry saw things a bit differently in regards to his parents, both his mother and father and not in a bad way either. Indeed, he took his uncle's final words that night to heart. 

Especially the part of loving. Him and Ginny had settled, according to the American 'baseball' system explained to him by Doc Detibedeux, around second base (1st being kissing, second petting, third oral, and home…). Mostly, they spent a lot of time talking, and enjoying each other's company. While there were certain things he didn't tell her (Snape being the source within the Death Eater ranks, a few other really secret things), for the most part he talked with her of his troubles, then of hers, and other assorted things. Harry felt that Ginny was good thing in his life, as he studied and trained harder because for the thought of losing her in the war was unthinkable. During their sessions atop the Astronomy Tower or in the greenhouses (Astronomy was one of Ginny's favorite topics, and Harry had discovered the place, along with a spot in the greenhouse, made a great, secluded tryst out of sight of the rest of the school, especially when used in conjunction with the Invisibility Cloak), they continued to get to know the other, and enjoy the company of each other.

Yet, their relationship had developed two potential hiccups. The first was the holidays approaching. Ginny told him that Molly and Arthur were having Christmas at No.12 Grimmauld since Sirius was there. The Weasley clan had been brought about to the existence of the place when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had paid a special visit to Hogwarts after the attack on Hogsmeade, and told them that they would spending Christmas at the Black residence. Normally, Harry should have been happy, but the thought of two weeks of basically looking, but not touching and having to act as though nothing was happening between him and Ginny was going to be torture. Harry had talked to Ginny about this, and she had told that she felt the same way. Then she had laughed, and said that it would look really suspicious if it ended up being just being him and her staying at the school over the holidays, now wouldn't it?

Harry had agreed, but then there had been another problem: just what the hell was he going to give Ginny? Their one-month anniversary had been missed because Harry had been on a goddamned training mission with Bladvak's goblins in the Forbidden Forrest. Ginny had understood, but Harry had felt like shit afterwards. He swore he was going get Ginny something really special, something to last years, but he had racked his brain and couldn't find out a way of getting one. Money wasn't the issue (Alex had showed him his parent's financial statement from Gringotts and it was now at about seven hundred thousand galleons due to the fact the Ministry had given a monetary reward for the 'demise' of Voldemort, plus a healthy survivor's pension for both James and Lilly. This coupled with the fact their savings hadn't been touched much over the last five years ensure Harry had quite the hefty fortune), but the actual buying and wrapping.

Reason for that was quite easy. After the incident at the Three Broomsticks, Bladvak had brought in three hundred additional goblins from their depot in the north, and coupled with the six hundred odd they already had their, ensured that the streets resembled an armed camp. The Headmaster had, at the same time, decreed that Hogsmeade visits were to be closely monitored, and were to take place only on weekends. No free reign was given. Harry thus found his ability to move in the shadows of Hogsmeade compromised, and thus also his ability to quietly, out of sight of anyone he might know, of buying a gift for Ginny.

Finally, a week before the Ball and Christmas Eve, Harry went and had a chat with his uncle before classes started, explaining his situation. Alex had laughed, and helped him with his problem since Linda had sent him a huge stack of catalogues, and let Harry pick something out for Ginny. Harry leafed through them, and after a while picked something out that he thought Ginny would appreciate. Alex hadn't looked at the gift, as he knew Harry's rule of protecting his woman's identity, but he took one look at the price tag, whistled, and asked Harry how he wanted to arrange it to be delivered. Harry asked that it be sent to Alex's office, wrapped in plain packing paper and he would handle the rest, and he would arrange it from there. Alex had asked if he had a plan; Harry had a plan in mind indeed…

            *          *          *

"You cunt motherfucker! Three of a kind beats two pair any day!" That was the jocular voice of Doc Detibedeux.

"Fuck you, you gimpy bastard! Aces are wild, so if anything I win, you stupid Yankee asshole!" Dean Thomas, likewise jocular.

"Oh, shut it the both of ye. Harry, who would Books say win in a case like this?" 

Harry smiled, looked at the cards, and nodded to Dean. "Aces are wild, and a trio of queens will beat a trio of jacks any day of the week. Dean's hand." 

Doc laughed, and swore. Everyone had a hearty laugh. 

It was the Christmas Eve, and the Yule Ball was a few hours away. With Hogsmeade visits severely restricted, the upcoming ball was going to be a morale booster for everyone in the school. Even the house of Gryffindor, which was currently in the lead house point wise after several hundred had been awarded to Hermione, and Katrina for helping evacuate the younger students in the firefight on the night of the fourth. Luna had likewise earned a hundred for Ravenclaw for her role as well. 

Doc and Neville had been released after a couple of days in the hospital. While Neville had been completely healed, Doc had been wearing a cast and using crutches, which were quite a problem when using the staircases, but he was upbeat about the whole thing. Harry had to admire Doc's bravura, as the man had had his foot shot off and reattached, and could only joke that he was going to be an worse dancer then he already was; according to Neville, Doc had even gone so far as to establish a pool on the number of times he would fall on his ass during the ball. That was crazy, and it was something to watch later. Ron merely thought it was fortunate that Doc had gotten hit during the off time for the Quidditch team, else they would be in deep shit Seeker wise.

At the moment, though, Doc, Seamus, Harry, Dean, Neville, and Ron were gathered in the common room, dressed in their dress robes as they waited for their dates, and playing a few hands of poker. Harry and Neville stayed out of the game and kept it civilized by ensuring nothing more then a Galleon's worth of coins were on the table at any one time. This ensured someone like say Ron wouldn't lose his ass too badly after a couple of hands.

Harry had on his bottle green dress robes set, the same he had worn the year before, and was uncomfortable somewhat as he was only going to be armed with his wand and his trusty Fairbairn. After carrying it around with him so long, he almost felt naked without the weight of it on his hip, as there wasn't any real way to carry concealed on his person. Yet, he didn't expect anything big to happen. _After all_, Harry thought to himself, _they would have to be fucking mad to try anything with about a thousand goblins garrisoning the town and school_.

Leaning back into a chair, he sipped from a bottle of Butterbeer at his side and wiggled his toes in his shoes. Shoes to him were something he appreciated, especially since he easily remembered a time when he had had to duct tape the sides of his trainers to ensure they didn't fall apart. The shoes he had on now, black oxfords Mrs. Weasley had gotten for him during his fourth year, weren't as comfortable as the ones he normally wore, but Harry had learned not to complain as there had been a few times when he had almost gone to school barefoot.

Doc had been shuffling the deck of cards when he looked at the watch (a stainless steel Seiko he had received from his Korean grandfather) and started to rise to his feet. Picking up his black stovepipe hat (the dress robes for his school made him look like a riverboat gambler from the 1840s), he said, "Well, I hope the girls make it here soon." Harry hoped so too, for he while he was going alone again, he really wanted to see if the convoluted plan he had set into motion of getting Ginny her Christmas gift was actually going to work…

"Here they are." Harry looked towards the staircase, and sure enough it was the girls. Unlike the Halloween Ball, everyone was a hell of a lot less nervous and more easy-going. Harry wasn't sure if it was because there was little change in the couples (Seamus was still with Lavender, and Dean, for reasons Harry couldn't fathom, was taking Parvati, again. Harry rather cynically hoped that she had taken a dose of tetracycline, otherwise there would be a second Drip belonging to Gryffindor), but the taught, tripwire-like tension was mercifully gone.

Ginny, dressed in a soft lilac set of dress robes, went over and helped Doc walk. Luna was Doc's, but since Ginny said she was going alone, she was going to go with them to help with Doc. Doc, ever cheerful, dryly commented on seeing who would have the most women on their arms come time of the dancing. Hermione had embraced Ron, but then started fussing with his robes, saying there was a string loose here and another there. She asked, in an exasperated tone, "You didn't try another Severing Charm, did you Ron?" Ron looked rather embarrassed as Hermione started straightening him out with the efficiency of a Corporal before a parade. 

Everyone started heading towards the door, which was at that time the fireplace lit up. "What the…" Neville said, his arm around Katrina, as they and everyone turned, curious to see what was happening. Harry made a special effort to look surprised (putting on a poker face at a time like this only ensured that questions would be asked later) and watched, though he knew what was about to happen.

Out stepped a goblin wearing blue coveralls and a hat not unlike the one Harry often saw in cartoons. He was holding a small box in one hand, and a slip of paper in the other. The goblin stepped forward, and called out, "There a Virginia Weasley, 'ere?" Harry had to keep from laughing, as the goblin's accent was an almost understandable Cockney. 

Ginny stepped forward, frowning with curiosity. "That's me."

The goblin handed her the package and the paper, along with a small quill. "Sign her, ma'am. You got a package via the Gringott's Delivery Service." Ginny did so, and, after taking the slip of paper back and with a tip of his hat, the goblin stepped back into the fire. Everyone looked perplexed, and Katrina said to Ginny, "Aren't going to open it?" Ginny shrugged and set the package down on the table where the boys had been playing cards. Pulling away the strings and wrapping, the paper box opened to reveal another, smaller felt lined box, and a short not. Ginny picked both of them up, and read the note silently. By the time she was done, a smile was on her lips. Ron asked, "Oi, who's that note from?"

Ginny ignored him, and opened the smaller box after safely tucking away the note. Harry had to use everything in him from stepping forward and taking Ginny into his arms. Ginny had gasped, and seemed stunned as she opened the smaller box to reveal Harry's Christmas present to her.

It was silvery, platinum, heart-shaped locket on a thin, filigreed silver chain. Harry had taken a while to pick something out, and had been torn between the silver and the gold. Gold might lend in well with her red hair, but Harry decided to go with the silver. Silver had always seemed to be more beautiful to him, and decided it would blend in well as a contrast with Ginny's red hair. Fire and ice… not to mention the fact scarlet and silver were the colors of the Parachute Regiment, and Harry took that to be a sign of good luck…

Ginny seemed to be trouble finding the words, until Hermione asked, "Who's it from, Ginny?"

She finally seemed to have control of herself as she answered, "I'm seeing someone, and he sent this to me early for Christmas…he said he was sorry he couldn't take me to the ball as he had business to attend to over the holidays. Wow…" Ginny looked at the locket, and Harry decided a bit of deception was going to be necessary. Smiling, he asked, "Ah, ha, I was wondering why I caught you running through the halls a couple of nights back. He a good man?" Ginny smiled, and Harry could tell she was amused by the question. "Oh, I think you'd find a very good man…" 

"So who is he, Gin?" This was Ron, who seemed to be 

She turned to him, and giggled, "Why you want to know, Ron? So you and Fred and George could make him miserable? I think not."

"Come on Ginny, I'm your brother! So's Fred and George, so we should…"

"Know that it is entirely up to Ginny if she wants to tell or not," Hermione admonished him. Ron shut up, and Harry decided to stir some more shit, as his convoluted plan of getting Ginny a gift and make it appear as though it came from someone else. He had had it delivered to Hogwarts, where he had taken it from his uncle, wrote the card (_Dearest Ginny, I'm sorry I can not be there to give you this small token of my feelings for you, but know that you are with me night and day, and I hope that I'm the same with you. Love…_), boxed it together, and sent it via a Goblin he knew to Gringotts, and sent it from there.

With a smile on his face, he said to Ginny, as casually as possible, "Why don't you open it up? See what's in there?" Ginny gave him a _very_ brief glance, almost as if she was asking just what the hell he was doing, which he would have been hard pressed to answer as he was, but his amused smile ensured she did as she asked. Using a fingernail, she opened it to reveal two halves, and a divider between the two. The right half was empty, the left showed a small color photograph of Ginny smiling at the camera. Ron seemed disappointed, but Lavender asked, "Isn't there something written on that piece there?" She was pointing at the divider. 

Ginny held it up to her eyes and began to read, as the print was so small. " 'My heart and soul are yours, now, forever, always' " She turned the divider over, and finished it, " 'I will never leave you, I will never betray you, I love you more then life itself' " 

Seamus snickered, "How touching," Lavender smacked him on his arm, "It's sweet, leave it be."

Ginny smiled, and closed the locket. Harry grinned, "Why don't you put it, make the rest of the girls jealous?" This was already partly true already, as Katrina and Hermione were already telling her it was easily the most gorgeous piece of jewelry any girl in the school owned. Things continued that way when Fred with Angelina and George with Alicia had come down the stairs. 

"Who gave you that, Ginny?" Fred asked.

"Was it that slime Creevey again?"

Ginny didn't answer as she found the tiny clasp at the rear of the necklace, and unlatched it. Harry had another sudden idea, knowing that he was pushing it, but he was riding a wave of recklessness and just had to give it a shot. "Here, Ginny, I'll help you with you that, since your man is rather far away."

"Thanks Harry." She handed it to him and as Harry circled around so he could place it around her neck, Harry swore he heard her breath "Closer then you think…"

Moving close to her, Harry draped the silver around her neck. Ginny smelled of soap, and rosewater shampoo. She had also dabbed on a new perfume, too. This one was of…cinnamon? Harry wasn't too sure; all he knew was that he wanted to do was embrace himself with Ginny, to do things any normal guy should, would do with his girlfriend. Yet…

Nonetheless, as he clasped it, he smiled inwardly, and decided to have a little fun. As he closed the clasp, he ran a knuckle of his along the nape of her neck as he finished, an area that Harry knew was one of her weak spots. He smiled as he felt a small shudder go through her, and knew she was trying to stifle a giggle. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad evening after all…

            *          *          *

_Peachy, literally,_ Harry thought to himself. At the moment, he was standing, totally at ease, near the drink stands watching the way the ball was turning out with a fizzy peach drink in hand. So far it had been a splendid evening, with the same band as last time provided the music. The reason they were playing was that Moody wanted the same band that had been cleared previously of any possible Death Eater links. It was the closet thing to not being paranoid, as Harry had seen the man.

This was, of course, before he found out that the band was made up of off-duty members from the Detectives Bureau (the bane of wizards and witches in the line of work such as Mudungus Fletcher) and the Auror's Division. 

Sipping his drink, he noticed Malfoy and Cho Chang dancing on the floor. _Bastard should learn to have some manners, unless she enjoys it in which case I hope she's happy._ Harry's thoughts were on the fact Draco was quite boorishly pressing himself against her, and his hands were quite…busy. It was times like this that Harry was damn grateful for Tom Courtney and his uncle at ensuring he learned some common sense and manners, else he could be acting as boorishly as Malfoy was. 

Harry watched as Cho looked his way, and he smiled and gave a friendly wave, and did likewise when Malfoy glanced his way. The game they were playing at Harry deduced a long time ago and it was to make him jealous. Harry watched as the dance came to an end, and Malfoy slip a hand down one of Cho's thighs, and snorted. _Do those imbeciles think I would be jealous after what? A month and a half, two months since the last Ball? Fucking numbskulls_…

Finishing his drink, he set it down, and looked around for something to do. Ginny and Luna were chatting away with Doc, who was showing them 'magic' tricks with a deck of cards and his top hat. Ron and Hermione were having an intimate moment, and Harry smirked as he saw Ron lean over and kiss her. Then there was Katrina and Neville, who were talking with Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. Harry couldn't help but noticed how Neville had an arm around Katrina and saw that one of her hands was on the table, and the other on Neville's leg. 

Out of curiosity, Harry glanced towards Snape, who seemed to be watching his daughter with a bland expression on his face. Again, Harry was struck with the notion that here was a man who could only be described as gray. He was a Death Eater who had undoubtedly done some rather dirty deeds (Harry had asked to see the case file on him; Alex had laughed and told him no dice), not to mention carrying on a grudge from his school days. Thinking of just how much shit the son of a bitch had put him through over the years made his blood boil sometimes, and he was still a snarky, crotchety bastard who would sooner belittle rather then praise an accomplishment.

Yet, he had obviously loved a woman, and judging by the fact he went through some incredible ordeals to keep his daughter safe (Harry could see that he occasionally limped into meetings, or had a tick in one of his fingers), he loved his daughter too. If Harry had heard of something like this a year ago, he would have scoffed at the notion that Snape was anything more then a greasy haired whoreson who despised him the way he despised his father. To Harry, it seemed that every time Harry thought he had him pegged, Snape would pull something off to shatter the paradigm he had constructed of the man.

_Which might be a good thing_, Harry conceded. _After all_, _boxing a person like that is just another way of underestimating them, and doing that can get your ass killed in heartbeat._

"Why are you not fully armed, Potter?" Harry turned, and saw the grizzled face of Moody glaring at him. "Sir, my cross-draw isn't that effective, and since there isn't any real intelligence of a planned attack, I didn't want to hazard carrying it in one of my pockets." 

"Harry, I told you: constant…"

"Vigilance, sir."

Moody cracked a grin and handed him a small pistol. Harry recognized it as a stainless steel .38-caliber revolver, the five shot variety to be carried on the ankle. "Keep it in your pocket, and remember to always carry a backup of some sort with you."

"Do you, sir?"

Moody laughed, "Since 1939, when I was the young idiot they sent to extract an agent of ours from the city of Danzig on the German coast. Messy that one, being chased at night by German and Polish vampires." Harry didn't know what else to say, and pocketed the revolver. At the ranges it was effective at, he knew he wouldn't need to zero it, and knowing Moody, it was bound to work like clockwork. 

Alastor bid him good night, and told him to enjoy himself. Harry laughed, and went back to drinking the peach drink he liked. It was as he was drinking his second or third glass that he noticed his uncle standing by himself near the staff table. Alex seemed to be deep in thought, and staring down at the table. Harry noticed he wasn't using the magical eye, for it didn't moved and appeared more lifeless then the other, magical one. Alex sipped from a scotch glass, and Harry noticed also that his either cheerful or expressionless uncle seemed…He wasn't sure what it was, though he did realize that unlike the other teachers he was dressed in his suit and school tie, but this time it seemed as though he wore a half robe. _Why is he dressed up as a teacher…?_

It was then that another slow dance started and he heard the jocular, Louisiana accent of Doc. "Hey Harry!" He turned and saw the crazy American on one foot, his cast limping towards the dance floor with one arm around Luna's waist, and Ginny standing next to the table. "Yeah, Doc?"

"Dance with Ginny so that all of us will have one."

Harry nodded to Ginny, "You sure your boyfriend won't mind, Gin?" It took an effort to keep a straight face as he said it.

She smiled and went over to him, "No, he won't mind at all."

Together, they got on the dance floor with several other couples. Ginny put his hands on her waist, and hers on his shoulders. Harry made it a special effort to ensure no got the wrong (rather, right) ideas by ensuring that he could drive a damn lorry in the space between the two of them. 

Ginny must have understood this, as she looked up at him and said, "You know, I really hope my boyfriend likes the two gifts I have for him."

Harry smiled, and asked, as though he were being polite, "Two?"

"Two"

They danced for about a couple of minutes until the dance ended. Harry bowed to her, and hugged her the way he hugged someone like Hermione or Mrs. Weasley, out of politeness. Yet, as he did so, Ginny whispered in his ear, "Astronomy Tower tonight, eleven tonight" They broke apart, and she spoke to him as he escorted her back to the table, "I hope my boyfriend will find a way to come back early to our usual spot. I've got a certain surprise for him if he does…" 

Harry was enthusiastic as to just what that surprise was going to be.

            *          *          *

Walking quickly, Harry devoutly hoped he wasn't being followed. He had spent the past hour after his dance with Ginny walking the halls, trying to ensure he didn't have anyone follow him. True, he could have used the Marauder's Map, but that, along with his Invisibility Cloak he had had to temporarily loan to Ginny when they had almost been caught (once again by Mrs. Norris and Filch; it had taken flashing Harry's Security badge in order to create enough of a distraction for Ginny to get away) the last night on their way back from a tryst. Since he had already signed off from the communications net (not to mention the trouble Bladvak and Ironhammer had gone to ensure his privacy), so he wound up having to use the techniques of tradecraft his uncle had taught him over the summer in London. So far, he hadn't been followed unless they had been using the Invisibility Cloak, and Harry had made it a point to double track and use a magical tuning fork to detect the presence of any dickheads hiding in said cloaks. 

There weren't any, so, after another check near the corridors, Harry finally went up the stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower, and opened the door that lead to the outside of it. Harry exited, and felt the chilly weather. The top, which was nearly open to the elements in order for students' telescopes to be used effectively, nonetheless had conical top that blocked out most of the snow and wind. It was also special in that it was made out of wooden panels that could be slid around to give a good view of the sky from multiple directions whilst providing for some excellent views of the night sky.

Harry closed the door, and wondered realized that the top of the Astronomy Tower was one of the best little secrets in the school. _Let those idiots get caught by someone like Snape or Filch_, Harry thought, _when they stick with broom closets, empty classrooms, and the library. I'll take the tower, the greenhouses, or our spot under the oak tree any day of the week. More privacy, better room to see interlopers, and the cold is the perfect reason to get that much closer…_

"Harry…" It was a low, throaty, feminine whisper. Harry recognized it as Ginny's voice and scanned the room. She wasn't anywhere to be seen. 

A laugh full of delight, "To your right, in the corner." Harry turned towards the location, and saw nothing but the corner of the room near a row of cabinets, as well as a couple of the coal filled braziers and oil lamps that gave a low light to the place. "Where Gin?" 

"Right here, love."

The corner dissipated as Ginny threw back the Invisibility Cloak that had been covering her. Harry's breath caught, and he was speechless. The look on his face must have been astonishing, for Ginny started laughing with delight.

Ginny had taken a bunch of black school-issue blankets (kept in the cupboards for those nightly Astronomy lessons during the winter, as even with the top blocking the wind, it could and did get pretty cold in there) and made a bed out of them in the corner. She had taken the Invisibility Cloak, and put a stretching charm on it for it covered the twin-sized pallet quite well. Yet that wasn't what caused Harry's air to catch.

What caused that was the simple fact that, judging by the fact her hair was unpinned (she had had it pinned up and styled during the ball), and that her pillow was her lilac dress, her cloak, and what were undeniably her bra and underwear. Which meant she was completely naked under the black blanket that covered her.

Ginny must have seen when this thought reached Harry's mind, for after a moment, her smile became somewhat shy as she stretched, and threw off the blanket. "Merry Christmas, Harry." Harry could only nod, as he was desperately trying to find some air. During his time, he had seen many a naked woman in real life (including one time at Meg's where all ten girls had been displayed for his 'inspection'), but this was something else, something really precious, and something much, much more… 

Harry shook his head and sat next to her. Ginny, though she was smiling, had closed her eyes, and Harry's eye could tell she was quivering slightly. _What's wrong…Of course, you dunce, she's nervous…So…_

"Ginny, look at me." Harry said softly.

She turned her head to him, but her eyes remained shut. Harry leaned over, stroked her hair, then her face, hands gentle as a warm breeze. "Ginny, are you nervous?"

She nodded, slowly. Harry watched her breath, the silver of her locket gleaming at the uppermost edge of the valley between her breasts. Harry took a moment to drink in the sight of her beauty, the sight of a small smattering of freckles along her neck and chest. To him, he thought that she was the most beautiful, and kind and loving girl in the entire universe. It was the first time he had seen her completely naked, and he wanted to explore and taste and…

But I don't want her to be afraid, not to be afraid of me. Not now, not ever… 

He leaned over and kissed her on her eyes softy. "Ginny, look at me, with your eyes this time."

She opened her eyes, and Harry saw her watching him nervously. Harry stroked her hair, knowing she loved it when he did that. "Ginny, you don't need to be afraid of me. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. Okay?"

She nodded, and said, "I'm not. I love you, it's just…I'm just a bit nervous, scared that you'll think of me again the way you used to. You know, just Ron's sister. That this is just another silly dream."

Harry smiled at her, and brought her close to him. "Ginny, I will never, ever hurt you. You mean everything to me right now, you Ginny the woman. Ron's sister you may be, but your Ginny first and foremost." He tapped the locket on her chest. "I meant everything I had engraved on it. More then life, I love you." Grinning, Harry looked deep into her eyes, and softly murmured to her, "I love you."

She slowly stopped quivering and asked; "I heard it hurts the first time for girls. How about you, did it hurt for you?"

Harry took a moment to think, and said, "Not sure as I was rather excited, but I'll be careful with you." Noticing her fingernails, he held them up and grinned, "Though I can't say much about my back, these nails look a mit sharp there." He pulled her to his lips and nibbled at them gently. Ginny laughed, and threw her arms around him, and exclaimed, all nervousness gone, "I love you, Harry. Now, forever, and…"

"Always," Harry said softly. She reached down and started to unbutton the front of his dress robes. Harry felt the warmth of her through his clothes. Yet he stopped her, and pulled a pair of vials bundled together. "Drink this," he said to Ginny. She did so, and so did Harry. It was the Aphrodite Potion, which protected one for about a four-hour period against pregnancies and disease without the side effects of the Eros Potion. Sadly, it was also harder to brew and more expensive to buy, which was why Harry kept about six pairs (not counting the one they had just consumed) in his trunk. He also had another two in his pocket, keeping an eight- hour stock with him at all times. 

Ginny sniffed the potion and asked, "Aphrodite?"

Harry nodded, as he pulled out his pocket watch, looked at the time (_2200, next one needed at 0200_, he thought), and asked her, "Pomfrey show you guys this last month?"

She nodded, and drew him to her. Harry kissed her neck, and started to help Ginny disrobe him. They lay down on the blankets, still moving, but Harry stopped to look at her, to admire, and love her with everything that he was.

I am the most fortunate man alive… 

Ginny looked up at him, and Harry said to her, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world, and I just realized, I'm the most lucky man in the world."

Harry probably would have said more, but Ginny silenced him with a kiss and, "I love you…" 

Above them, the stars gleamed with a passion in the night of winter…Passion and joy and feeling nearly as bright as the couple below.


	27. Chapter XXVII: Tears of the Soul

Disclaimer: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

Chapter XXVII: Tears of the Soul 

Harry was awake, and leaning with his back to the stone wall of the Astronomy Tower. He was pleasantly tired, and relaxed, thinking, and occasionally taking a look at the stars. A thick, black wool blanket covered him and ensured he was warm from the cold wind that occasionally blew in through the open view ports of the tower. 

Not that it really would have mattered, for Harry smiled and looked down at what was really keeping him warm. Ginny was asleep atop Harry's chest, and a content smile was on her face. Her red hair was laid out fan-like across his chest and neck. In the dim light, Harry could make out a couple of her freckles, and went back to what he had been thinking of a memory.

Rather, two memories came to mind. During his younger years, he had had to go to church on precisely two occasions. Both times were when Mr. Dursley and Petunia wanted to kiss some ass for a boss or two, and Harry had been jacketed into a suit so ill-fitting he had been a natural target for bullying not just from Dudley but other kids his age. He couldn't say he blamed them either as Dudley pretty much ran Little Whinging's children like his own personal fiefdom. This was, of course, before he had had his ass handed to him on a platter the previous year.

Yet, the memory Harry had was of the first, and last, time he had spent listening to a vicar in an Anglican church decrying the 'sins of the flesh'. It had taken a few years to realize just what the hell he was talking about. The second memory was of listening to the wireless one day, and hearing some American social commentator saying how it was morally wrong and traumatic for both parties, the girl especially. Harry had had to snort at that. 

For starters, he thought it was rather hypocritical of the damn vicar (who it turned out had fathered something like eight kids on as many women) to berate people over something like that. Harry rather cynically thought that God, or Yahweh or Allah or whatever his name was probably had a bit too much on his hands dealing with humanity's worst excesses to deal with a little honest sex done by a pair of willing people. It also seemed hypocritical that the natural way people were created was supposed to be a sin or something. _Please…_Harry thought to himself.

As for the social commentator, Harry wondered if she considered the trauma he had went through _before_ he ever got laid. For that matter, the trauma Ginny had gone through before their night. Harry had, amongst other things in his fifteen years, been: shot at, stabbed, nearly eaten by spiders, nearly eaten by a snake, poisoned by a BFS: big fucking snake or basilisk, been cursed and stunned and hexed more times then he could count, nearly been expelled, the whole Triwizard Tournament, and had seen plenty of men (mostly bad, but one good one) get killed in his time. Him and the Grim Reaper were almost on a first-name basis by now. Ginny, too, hadn't had a 'normal' teen life to begin with either. After all, spending the better part of a year under the magical dominion of a mad wizard (or his memory anyhow) was quite traumatic to say the least. Needless to say, that blew that dingbat's theory not out of the window, it threw it off the fucking planet.

Harry's whole stance, in the end, about just what he and Ginny were doing: regardless of how young they were (he was fifteen, she was fourteen), they had seen enough shit already that what they were doing wouldn't be so bad. Indeed, Harry's opinion on sex, like that of tobacco, and alcohol, shaped over the summer, was that it was a good thing, provided it was done carefully and in moderation. Not to mention the fact that one of the main reasons that the woman claimed against sex at their age (that the boy would cause serious emotional harm to the girl since he was in it merely for the physical gratification) was pure bullshit. At least in Harry's case, as he had had a fair share of women, and knew what he felt towards Ginny was different. Indescribably different. 

Harry shook his head. _No use thinking of such shit, not when you're bed with the finest, funniest, sweetest, fuck it all! The most perfect girl in the world!_ Ginny stirred against him, and Harry felt her draw him closer to her. He smiled and reached over to the pocket watch that was lying in the pocket of his robe trousers. Like Ginny, he had stacked his cloths under his head as a pillow. 

Opening the cover, he saw that it was seconds away from striking midnight. Christmas Day. 

When it did so, he gently shook Ginny awake. She stirred and looked at him, "Hmm…?" Harry smiled as he kissed her on her lips. 

"Merry Christmas, Gin."

She kissed back, and after a moment, as they were catching their breath, she said. "If this is a dream, I hope to never wake up."

"This is no dream, Gin. Would this happen in a dream?" Harry slid a free hand under the blankets, and after a moment Ginny yelped and shuddered. 

"I suppose not…"

Harry looked at her, and held her close. "You all right?"

"Never felt better, why?"

"I was worried I was hurting you, you know, the first time around?"

She smiled at him, and ran a finger along his jaw line. "It did a little at first, and then it got better and better. Second time around it was the greatest feeling in the world. I'm glad you showed it to me Harry."

Ginny seemed to tense up, and Harry asked, "What's wrong?"

"Harry, was I… I mean, it was my first time and all, but did I…oh…"

Harry figured out what she was worried about. Smiling, he chided her, "Don't worry, you were the best, Gin. I mean, the third time around you were wilder then all the girls I met before. What's the saying? A cat tween the sheets? More like a wild one at that!"

Ginny, laughed, and then smiled at him wickedly. "An animal is it? You seemed to be enjoying it if I remember your shouting… or was it moaning? Moaning Harry?"

Harry laughed and said, "What a vixen I've got here." Ginny kissed him, and it seemed as though their fourth (or was it fifth or sixth? Harry had stopped counting a bit earlier) time was coming around when Harry's ears heard something. It sounded like music, and Harry broke away from Ginny, and listened. Ginny looked surprised, "What's wrong?" She asked.

Harry put a finger to her lips. "Shh," he whispered. 

Sure enough, there was someone coming up the steps. Harry and Ginny quickly grasped the edges of the Invisibility Cloak and spread it over their corner of the room. They quieted as the veil like cloak covered them. Harry could tell it was just one person, and that person was singing. 

In a low voice, almost dirge-like in tune, he (the voice was deep enough to be a man, or someone like Milicent Bulstrode) was singing softly, mournfully, _The Girl I Left Behind Me_.

Harry wondered who it was, and watched as the door opened, and closed. The person was obviously a man, but in the dim light, Harry couldn't tell who it was. He walked towards the center of the room, in one hand was what looked like a bottle of wine, between the fingers of which were two wine glasses. In the other hand was what looked liked a picture, framed. The man set the wine and glasses in the center of the room, and moved towards one of the braziers. He pauses as he dragged one towards the center of the room, and continued singing. 

Her golden hair in ringlets fair,**  
her eyes like diamonds shining  
Her slender waist, her heavenly face,  
that leaves my heart still pining  
Ye gods above oh hear my prayer  
to my beauteous fair to find me  
And send me safely back again,  
to the girl I left behind me**

Harry knew then and there whom it was that was singing, especially as the man turned, and Harry got to see his face. It was Alex, only this time his face appeared to be…Harry couldn't place it. Alex had taken out his magical eye, and Harry saw that there was naught but the gaping hole where his eye should have been. 

Harry's uncle, after he sang the last line, gave a harsh laugh, "Aye, I was sent back safe again all right." Alex sat down and set the picture up. He then opened the wine, and filled the two glasses. Setting one against the frame, he clinked his against the one next to the frame. "Merry Christmas, Liz."

Alex sipped from it, and said to the picture. "Its been a long time, Liz …" He sighed. "I'm sorry I never came back earlier, but once I was here, I remembered our anniversary." He sipped again, and swirled his glass. Alex's eyes appeared to be watering, and Harry held Ginny closer to him. Harry had seen his uncle happy, angry, in a killing rage even, but never like this. Never sorry, never sad, never…grieving it looked like. 

_Liz…Wait, that's…_Harry's thoughts were interrupted as Alex leaned over and started tracing his finger along the outline of the photograph. He started speaking, "I know you're wondering, but you were right about my nephew Harry. The lad's a handful all right. Our motto is the bravest and the boldest are words; that boy, nah man, he _lives_ it. I remember that time me and you first saw him, all pink and cooing and I remember you asking me if you could have one like him to. Yeah, I remember holding him high in the air, and he pulled my hair and you laughed and we were all happy." Alex cracked a sad smile, "It would have sounded nice wouldn't it? Elizabeth Falkirk Evans with a son named Gerry and a daughter named Jane, eh?" 

He took a finger, pressed it to his lips, and pressed it against the frame. Harry knew whom Alex was talking about now: Elizabeth Falkirk, the 'close friend' of Alex's. While he was curious as to about this woman that so affected his uncle, at the moment all he wanted to make sure him and his woman weren't caught. So far, his luck was holding out: Ginny was doing a passable impression of a statue and was barely breathing, whilst Alex seemed to be concentrating on the picture.

Which was probably when the fickle finger of Fate entered into play. Also known as bad luck or just plain stupidity, a gust of wind blew into the tower. The gust was swift, strong and cold. Harry and Ginny snuggled closer, but Harry watched as a piece of parchment blow across the floor and rest in front of the picture. Harry would have shrugged it off except for the salient fact he knew that that piece of parchment was _very_ familiar. Indeed, he had remembered using it to check, when Ginny was asleep just what everyone else in the school was doing thirty minutes earlier. 

The parchment was the Marauder's Map, and Harry remembered, to his immediate relief, that he had cleared it, and all his uncle would see would be a blank area of parchment. 

Alex picked up the parchment, and looked at it. He started talking to Liz again. "It's been a long time since I saw this, and last I heard Moody had it sent back to Harry before he left last year. Now, I wonder what the hell it's doing up?" Alex laughed, "Only one way to find out." He drew his wand, tapped the parchment, and spoke the words. "I swear I am up to no good."

Harry thought his heart just stopped right there and then. Ginny, he could feel, just stiffened up in shock as well. He couldn't blame her, and somehow managed to bring his breathing back to the light breathing he had done before.

Alex looked down at the parchment, and started to laugh manically. He turned to the photo, and gasped out, "God, this too much, Liz!" After a moment, during which he managed to cough and choke his way back to reality (for the first time, Harry hoped his uncle choked and passed out, so that he and Gin could beat a hasty retreat), he got up and spoke, his voice in his best sergeant's voice: loud, commanding, but not yelling. 

"Right, Harry, get your kit, and get dressed out here. Allow your girl the privacy of your Invisibility to get dressed. Now, lad, now."

Harry sheepishly (he was quite sure if he could see himself better in the light, he would be blushing bad) grabbed his clothes and rolled out of the bed. Ginny had sat up and shrugging into her own clothes. Alex smiled at him as he came out from under the cloak. Harry dressed hurriedly in front of him, and wondered just his uncle was going to do. After a couple of minutes, Ginny came out and stood next to Harry. Harry slid a hand through one of hers, and Ginny looked at him. Together, they looked at each other for a minute before staring back at Alex in defiance.

Alex took a look at them, his face smiling, the glass eye he wore gleaming. "Harry, my compliments for getting yourself one hell of a woman. My compliments for being one, Miss Weasley." His tone was light, and he motioned to them to sit down. They did so, and Alex sat down across from them. Alex started to speak, "Now, as a teacher I'm supposed to disapprove and turn you in, but I think I won't do that…As a man and a comrade of yours, Harry, I'm tempted to leave and wish you to go forth and sin some more. But…" Harry could tell his uncle was enjoying himself immensely. "You two sit here, and when I leave, Ginny over there may go first, then me and Harry. Good?" Harry and Ginny nodded. 

Alex looked at the two of them, and his expression became somewhat more somber, though it still seemed happy. "Were you watching when I…" He trailed off, and looked towards the photo. Ginny spoke first, asking, "Who was she, sir?" 

"Call me, Alex." Alex sighed, and began to speak, "Her name was, is, Elizabeth Abigail Falkirk. She was of house Gryffindor, and she was the woman I loved."

"What happened to her?" Ginny again.

Alex looked to Harry, "Harry, I believe I told you once to come see me in ten years, after you've lost someone dear to you…I lost her, back in 1981, after Voldemort was defeated that first time."

"How, Uncle?"

Alex took the glass of wine, and sipped from it. His voice became steely and emotionless. "Not long after he was defeated that time, there was a renewed effort to eliminate his power base, which involved a massive hunt within the Ministry to discover who had spied during the war. We knew there were at least five high-placed agents within the ministry, and within the Order itself due to a defector we interrogated following the assassination of Minister of Magic Appscott. Three were readily identified due to the fact they worked in Finance and Accounting, not to mention the fact they came forward and confessed to the 'fact' they had been under the Imperius curse; they being Lucius Malfoy, and his two goons Crabbe and Goyle. Suspect number four was Augustus Rookwood, who was sniffed out when Karkaroff was interrogated."

"And the Fifth Man?"

Alex sipped his drink, his eyes still vacant. "There were two suspects I had in mind. However, that idea came to naught when the whole business with Sirius Black arose. We presumed then that it was Black who had been the Fifth Man, but Liz had always liked him, and investigated further. To this day, I don't know what she uncovered, but she told me, before she went to see the Auror in charge of the case with her information, that it could blow the lid off a hell of a game of intrigue. She went to the Auror's house, and there…" He paused, and looked at the two of them. "The AIC was Frank Longbottom, and the day she went to see Frank was the day they were attacked by the Death Eater elements. She arrived after they were done with Frank and his wife. From the report I read, there were only like five Death Eaters there, but they managed to subdue her, rape her, and then kill her after they were done. I was going to propose to her that night, and I had the ring ready in my pocket."

Ginny gasped, and Harry tightened his hand around hers. His uncle's words the day of the interrogation were ringing in his ears…Would he go as far as his uncle would if something like happened to Ginny? Harry looked at Ginny, and tried not to think of it, but couldn't…_You would be worse then him, Harry…You would have peeled that vampire like an orange and laughed as you did so if something happened to Gin_…The little voice in Harry's mind taunted him.

In order to escape it, he asked one thing that was bothering him. "You said something of a man named Mueller, did he have something to do with this?"

Alex nodded, "During the war with Voldemort, he employed a German vampire, who before he was turned worked as a high-ranking member of the German Gestapo during World War II, as his spymaster. The man's name was Joachim Mueller, and from what Liz told me, he had given her a real treasure trove of information that day. She was going to give the information to Frank, who would follow up on it, but things went to hell. I tried following things up, but Mueller vanished. From what I was later able to piece together, it seemed Mueller sent the Death Eater's to Frank's, and then sent Liz with bogus information there as well so that she would be killed, and provide him the coverage to escape. Anyhow, after all was said and done, the case was closed, the hunt for Mueller was curtailed, and I was so disgusted at the way things were going under that moron Fudge I turned in my badge, wand, and left our world. From there, I joined and well…" He shrugged, and took out a watch. 

"Today was the anniversary of the first date I took her on, to the Yule Ball, in the winter of 76. Now, I want you two to say your goodbyes, and Ginny, go down to the Gryffindor tower first, all right?" Ginny nodded, and after Harry hugged and kissed her good night, she made her way to the door, but stopped and turned to Harry. She pulled a small parcel out of her cloak pocket, and handed it to Harry. "Merry Christmas, Harry." Harry opened it to find a small, golden trinket, which looked like the letters H&G intertwined. There was a small loop where he could attach it to a chain or something. He smiled to Ginny, and said, "Thank you, love. Now we both can wear something close to our hearts." As he said this, he pulled out of his shirt the dog-tag chain which he wore the ID discs his uncle had made for him, Neville, and Dudley when they were up north. Besides the two discs (taped together to prevent noise), Harry now slipped on the golden trinket, and as he put it back under his shirt, he went to Ginny and kissed her goodbye once more.

As he and his uncle watched Ginny go, Alex turned to him and said, "Love her, Harry?"

"Yes sir."

Alex nodded, than said, "Merry Christmas then, Harry. I won't betray your secret, not now, never." He placed a hand on his shoulder, "And I'll make sure you, unlike me, get the chance to live with your woman happy. You understand?"

Harry nodded, and after a minute of silence, left for the Gryffindor Tower.


	28. Chapter XXVIII: The Connection

Disclaimer: See Chapter I 

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. 

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Anyhow, without further trouble, the next chapter.

**Chapter XXVIII: The Connection**

Harry, for perhaps the millionth time that day, wondered just what the hell he was doing. At the moment, he was dressed in his black suit, with his black trench coat over it. Despite it, he felt rather freezing, as he left his overcoat and jacket front open, and the weather was brisk and cold. The reason for that was because he was carrying a black leather attaché case handcuffed to his left hand, and he carried his Browning on his left side. So, to ensure his right hand could draw the 9mm he was carrying, Harry walked with his fedora pulled low, his coat open, and strode quickly to create some warmth.

At the moment, he was pacing fast through a few dimly lit streets in London's East End, the fog stew-thick. Harry remembered the story of Jack of Ripper, and wondered if Jack would meet up with him tonight. With the ways things had went today (Boxing Day, December 26) Harry wouldn't have been surprised. Yet, nervous as he was, Harry kept his face expressionless, his back straight, and his movements confident. He knew he was in a rough neighborhood, that he was being watched, and that the only thing the people around him respected was strength, brutality, and the fear of the first two being directed against them.

Harry heard only the sound of his footsteps clicking on the cobblestone streets. The clicking was soothing as Harry took a look at a darkened window, and saw that nobody was following him in the harsh glow of a street lamp. Further up the street, he saw the pub where the meet was located. Harry lifted his briefcase, and wondered just what the hell he was delivering. Considering it was Books asking for it delivered, he had to wonder…

            *          *          *

Jeremy 'Books' Fielding was a short, wiry fellow with brown hair and an easy smile from the neighborhood Harry was walking in. He had joined the Army at 19, when a childhood friend of his, a policeman named Frank Carter, had told him that it would be a good idea to leave London and never come back. The reasons included the fact Books (he had earned the nickname for being the clerk to a local underworld boss named Jacko Barker, who ran a small gambling operation out of the back of a saloon in the East End) had been wanted for questioning by New Scotland Yard about the death of a detective from the Organized Crime unit. Not to mention the fact several carloads of underworld heavies under the joint command of two very angry men by the names of Hatchet Harry and Bricktop were looking for him, to ask him some direct questions, in a very physical manner, as to just how much Books knew of Barker's skimming from the gambling operation; skimmed money that should have been going to the above-mentioned gentlemen. This was, of course, after it was discovered Barker had moved residences. Jacko Barker's new residence, it turned out, being the bottom of a gravel pit. 

Books had heeded the advice of Frank, and made his way over to the nearest Recruiting Office, where he took the initial entry tests, signed the papers, and got on a train that very day for recruit training. That had been about six years earlier, and he hadn't been back to his old hometown since. 

Now, Harry entered the picture for during his time in Wales him, Neville, and Dudley had learned to play poker, blackjack, and the American game of craps at Books' very capable hands. When they had left in the end of July, Books had enthusiastically asked for their mailing addresses. Harry had given him the forwarding one for Hogwarts Alex had given him, and hadn't thought much of it later.

That is, until Christmas Day rolled by and, lo and behold, there was a package from Bosnia, and the sender was listed as Cpl. Jeremy Fielding. Harry, feeling rather bored at No.12 since Ginny was off-limits (and tired of cheering Ron up as Hermione had taken the Floo to Switzerland, where her parents were skiing or something), opened it. Inside was a large glossy picture showing Books, Prescott, Rooney, and Ghost drinking beer in some barracks room, and making elf hats out their blue UN berets (none of the Paras Harry had met thought much of any other kind of beret, and stuck to their red ones). There was a letter, written with black ballpoint on blank loose-leaf, describing the events of the months since they had parted ways.

After they had finished their training rotation in the Welsh mountains, Second Battalion had been alerted to supply a draft of men for the UN peacekeeping force in Bosnia. Bravo Company had been detached and added to an ad hoc force sent in near Tuzla, and according Books things were rather quiet. The only excitement had been when a band of Serbs tried to steal a cow from a bunch of Croat farmers. It hadn't gone well, and a running gun battle had broken out with the British watching from a safe distance as the Serbs tried to take shelter in a small village. Unfortunately for the Serbs, it happened to be populated…by Muslims…Angry Muslims who had opened fire on both Serbs and Croats. Books said it was comical in a dark sort of way watching the three factions go at it. The fight eventually ended with one dead cow, and a bunch of dead people.

Books said the land was 'fucking mad, but interesting'.

After that, Books had asked for Harry, dressed neatly in suit and with his Browning, to go to an address close to the City of London, and pick up a package there from a German firm there. Attached to the letter had been a sealed packet identifying Harry as a Mr. Charles Menzies, of the security firm of Brinks and Holdens out of Hull, and a series of permits allowing him to have a concealed firearm. Harry had almost laughed for the photograph was a very crude cutout of one taken back at Dwrryn Camp that had been retouched and edited. It had also listed his age at 25, which Harry doubted if any policeman would believe. Yet, he was intrigued as Books told him to pick up the cargo at the German firm, and to deliver it to an address somewhere in the East End.

Bored as he was, Harry had gotten dressed, and told Sirius and the rest he was going to go drop something off for a Muggle friend of his. Mrs. Weasley, who was staying with Ron, the twins, and Ginny at Sirius's for Christmas, objected, but Harry was firm. Saying he owed it to a friend of his, he had walked out of the house, and spent three hours walking around the neighborhood that the Black residence was located at. He had done this for two very important reasons: he didn't wish to be followed, and he didn't have the slightest clue where the nearest underground station was. Once he found it, he got off near the City and made his way to the firm where he was expected.

Inside, he was greeted with a frisking, metal detector scan, and a curt demand to see his identification. The people greeting him had been a group of gray-suited, unsmiling gentlemen and one older woman with definite German accents. After they were satisfied with his credentials (and his reason for carrying a semi-automatic pistol in down-town London) the Germans had handcuffed the briefcase to him, and shown him to the door. From there, Harry had spent much of the rest of the day riding the underground and taking in the sights of London. Not because he had any great desire to be a tourist (though he had to admit watching the Gurkhas from the newly created Royal Gurkha Regiment, created following the draw-down, had been a thrilling sight to watch as they paraded near Buckingham Palace), but rather because he had the sneaky suspicion he was being followed. Harry wasn't sure what it was, since he had checked for a possible tail multiple times and come up empty, but he just had that feeling…

Which was why he spent thirty minutes in a public washroom, sitting in a stall, just listening for any footsteps or anything of that sort. He had also made it a point to walk through several bustling shopping areas, crosswalks and the like, staying on the lookout for anyone who seemed to bump into air or something similar. All quiet…which meant that if anyone was following him was either very good, or he was starting to develop a paranoia equal to that of Mad-Eye Moody and his uncle Alex.

Still, he had a job to do and after all the time he had used up being chased by shadows, he had made his way to the East End and now walked towards the rendezvous point. The point was a small pub, looked decent from where Harry stood as he walked. Judging by the fact there weren't any heroin addicts or shitheads loitering nearby, the place looked like a decent enough place. Which usually meant that the place had some connections to the underworld, as the usual rule was that addicts and shitheels, while being their customer base, were kept to a safe distance via the threat of brutality.

Harry couldn't complain, and he wasn't really worried, as he knew he was a neutral, and thus on probation as long as he didn't stir up any drama. No, what did worry him slightly was the name of the guy he was to deliver the briefcase to…

_Just how the fuck do you get to be called Soap?_ Harry was mulling over those thoughts as he opened the door to the bar.

            *          *          *

Harry entered and took his hat off. Switching it from his shooting hand to his left, Harry took a moment to scope the place out. It looked decent enough, with a bunch of booths, and crowd of middling leveling characters watching the tube at the bar. A blonde-haired, hard-looking character in a gray suit with a black turtleneck was behind the counter, and looking at Harry in frank curiosity. Harry supposed it was because of his age, or the fact that he was wearing a tie.

Smiling, Harry walked up and took a stool. He set down a pound note and asked, "Got any brew, sir?" The bartender smiled, and filled up a chipped porcelain mug with Earl Gray and set it down in front of Harry. Sipping it, he nodded in approval and said, "Piss-poor weather out. Fog is like a bleeding stew out there." The barkeeper laughed, and replied, "That it is lad. Look a bit, there." He made it come out of a question, though Harry understood it to be a command.

_State your business, or get the fuck out._

Harry smiled, and said to the man (who bore a remarkable likeness to Sting, a Muggle musician Uncle Alex listened to), " Running a delivery. Which reminds me, you know a fella named Soap?" The barkeep's face changed slightly, and it didn't look peachy. Harry wondered if that had been a good idea in the first place to mention whom he was looking for. 

The barkeep looked at him for a moment, and then jerked his head towards a back room. "In there, and tell him if it's got anything to do with the shit him and my boy pulled a few months ago to get the fuck out of here." He turned his attention back to the telly as Harry got up and headed towards the backroom. Now, Harry wondered just what the hell Books had gotten him into.

Opening the doors, he entered to find four guys around a table drinking. One of them, a thin, petulant looking fellow looked towards him and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" Harry didn't deign to answer and looked at the four of them. 

"Which one of you is Soap?"

"Me" The one who had asked him who he was got up and went over to Harry, him and the other three staring at Harry. Harry stared back.

After a moment, one of the ones at the table, one of the two with his hair cut really short (the way it had been for Harry back in Wales) asked, "Right, lad, what you got for Soap there?"

Harry kept his eyes locked on the man in front of him, playing the game to the hilt as he held up the briefcase. 

"Books send his regards."

Soap finally broke away as Harry smirked; he had won the game. "Oh, you're the one Books called me about. I thought he fucking out-of-it. That the case?"

Harry nodded, as he held it out.

"Books recommend you handle the goods through Doug the Jew or Tommy Barclay and to avoid Nick the Greek if possible." One of the short hair men snorted and muttered something. Harry didn't know or care.

Soap pulled out a key ring from a trousers pocket; Harry couldn't help but notice he had a hell of a knife hanging from his belt. As he held out the case, Harry asked, "You mind if I keep the cuffs?"

"Yeah go ahead." Soap un-cuffed the case and set it down on the table, handing the first key over to Harry. Using a second key on the ring, he turned the case from Harry's view and opened it. Soap seemed to gasp as he looked inside and slammed it shut suddenly. He looked over at Harry, though everyone in the room was curious as to just what Soap was up to. 

"Books promised you a thousand quid right?"

"Yeah"

Soap went over to a small cabinet and pulled out a roll of pounds of two, hundred-pound notes and the remainder in twenties. He handed them over to Harry. 

"Thousand quid, as promised." 

Harry didn't bother looking at it, and put it in a trousers pocket. "Have a good evening."

With that, he turned and exited the room. He didn't know what he just delivered, and couldn't have cared less. At the moment, he was just grateful the briefcase was out of his hands, and that he wouldn't be seeing these assholes again. Knowing Books, it could have been anything from diamonds to plutonium.

Turning, he opened the door and stepped out. With a quick nod to the barkeep, he headed straight toward the door. Harry took a glance towards at one of the plate glass mirrors, and saw something odd. One of the guys watching the tube, dressed in a sports coat with a blue sweater, moved his hand away from his beer stein. Harry got a good look at his hand, and he was wearing a metal ring and bracelet not unlike the one Harry had; the magical communications set Harry happen to have.

Harry paused and took his time buttoning up his coat, using his peripheral vision to watch the man at work. _You're fucking mad, anybody could have a bracelet and ring set like that._ Yet, Harry's initial thoughts became solidified as he watched the man remove a silvery piece of paper, break off a chunk of chocolate and eat it. Harry saw only part of the paper, but he readily identified it from the gold and silver artwork. It was a brand he himself ate from time to time…Honeydukes brand chocolate.

Stopping his buttoning, he unbuttoned his trench coat and went over to an empty booth. He threw it down, and peeled off a couple of hundred pound notes from the roll Soap had given him and went over to the bar. The barkeep looked over at him with a raised eye. Harry took a napkin, put the money under it, and slid it over.

"Fish and chips, bottle of gin, and glass. Make it extra on the chips."

The barkeep pulled the corner of the napkin back, examined the money, grunted, and slid over a half-filled bottle of some cheap brand. Harry normally liked Beefeater, as any else usually wasn't too far from rubbing alcohol, but at the moment he couldn't care less. Taking it and a small shot glass (decorated with the Conservative Party motif) Harry sat down, poured a shot, and slugged it down. 

It was worse then Harry thought it was, but he forced it down and had another. After that, he filled one and slowly, drop by drop, sipped from it. Turning his attention to the telly, he watched it as it turned to BBC news. Harry hadn't heard anything of the muggle world since he got on the Hogwarts Express, and listened intently to the foreign affairs field, especially in regards to the Balkans. The news there seemed all right, as all three factions seemed to be calling a New Years Truce of sorts.

His fish and chips wrapped in old newspaper arrived on a tin plate. Moving the newspaper around so no grease would get on his suit, Harry proceeded to smother his chips in salt, pepper, and Worcestershire sauce. Digging in methodically, Harry eyes were still on the TV, but his peripherals were on the wizard. More and more evidence came by Harry's way of that: the Honeydukes wrapper, the way he kept moving hand with the bracelet and ring towards his face (Harry had done this before, and would have bet a month's worth of detentions that the man would be mumbling into it; the question then being to _whom_), the fact that when his coat went up Harry could make out the outline of a wand. At least what he thought was a wand; after the Honeydukes wrapper and the bracelet set, it didn't take a genius to connect the dots.

Within a few minutes, Harry finished his food with a slight belch. Taking the dregs of his fourth glass of gin, Harry swished it in his mouth and took the bottle with him to the washroom where he spat the dregs into a sink. Looking around, Harry emptied half of what was left onto his coat, vest and shirt. Then, he dumped some on his hands and rubbed it into his face and hair. 

By now, Harry could smell himself, reeking of alcohol, not to mention the fact his eyes stung slightly since he got some gin in his eyes. Glancing in a mirror, Harry could see he was flushing, and his eyes were reddening. In short, he looked and smelled your standard drunk. _Perfect_, he thought to himself as he put on his trench coat. With a deep breath, he closed his coat, clutched the near empty body, and staggered out of the washroom towards the main door. None of the patrons gave him another look, though Harry could tell the wizard in the sweater gave him a casual glance. 

Harry stumbled across the room, and proceeded to mumble incoherently; playing the drunk to the hilt. Opening the door, he staggered out into the cold air and noticed that the fog had cleared up. _Good_, he thought as he staggered down the street. Light from the streetlights gave everything an eerie glow and Harry listened intently for footsteps. Watching puddles, reflective parts of cars and mirrors, he saw that the wizard had exited the bar, and was slowly following him, though he kept a safe distance. 

Banging into a street lamp, he unleashed a colorful string of profanity at about a million decibels, and then staggered onwards. He spotted an alley, reeking of garbage and who knew what else (he was quite sure there were probably a few rare items in there Snape might find handy in his potions making), and decided it was time to let loose the snitch, and get his game on. No one followed him on through most of London on a holiday without a reason; Harry intended on discovering just what the hell that reason was.

In the middle of the sidewalk, he groaned loudly, and with his free hand (the other was clutching his gin bottle), he doubled over and clutched his stomach. After a few seconds of making noise, he quickly moved into the alley. There, he did the most unpleasant thing he would have to do that night: he forced himself to vomit. 

Sticking a finger in his mouth, Harry thought to himself, _You're fucking mad, you know that? No choice though…_Pushing it back, he felt it touch the back of his throat and he gagged. Feeling his stomach moving, he barely cleared his finger out of his mouth, covered in saliva, before a train of vomit shoot out of his mouth like a train. In a near solid stream, his dinner, the liquor he had drunk, indeed the breakfast he had had that morning (toast and kippers with orange juice) splattered across the wall he was facing. 

Harry could hear the wizard approaching the alley. That was when things started to go really, really bad…It may have had something to do with the fact he hadn't had much water all day, that the alcohol and salty food, coupled with their violent ejection from his person weakened him bad, but Harry had to lean against the side of a dumpster, and he could feel himself slipping away into an almost dream-like state. That state was what was worrisome, for he felt himself…change. 

No longer did he have the drained feeling of person who has just upchucked a day's worth of food, water, and the burning sensation of regurgitated alcohol. He felt lithe, lean, powerful…the scent of the air was cold, sterile… Harry could see that he was in a room surrounded by shelves full of oval-shaped objects in various colors. There he smelled a man, a man moving along the shelves…Harry wanted to bite him, to kill, maim, but he stopped himself. He had a job to do….

The man walked close to Harry, and Harry curled himself up, trying to avoid the man. Too late…the man spotted him, and Harry could smell the fear and surprise on him. He drew his wand, and Harry struck, his fang digging deep into the man's ribs. The man's blood ran, and Harry luxuriated in the taste. Harry saw his face, and recognized it.

It was Sturgis Podmore, the member of the Order who had laughed and joked with Harry as they pulled security that day for the conference. Harry watched him bleed in great fountains, his mouth gaping. Then he screamed and Harry felt it in his head. Harry could feel a scream from within himself rising, he wanted out of this dream or vision or whatever it was…

Something touched his chest and Harry felt himself lose it. His vision a blur, his mind in that nether land where it is hard to tell dream from reality, the muggle training he had been put through for the past months kicked in. The bottle in his left hand struck out; it definitely hit something for Harry heard a grunt and he could feel a spray of liquid and solid detritus on his face. Still moving purely by instinct, his mind still in startup mode, Harry lashed out his with his foot and stepped forward as he heard a dull thud from the ground.

By now, he was more in the land of realty than dream, and took a look around. The man he had struck was lying back down on the ground at Harry's feet, partly in the pool of vomit. Harry drew his wand and knelt next to the man, leaving his Browning in his holster. There was a very good reason for that.

With the exception of the Three Unforgivables, the magic world was largely a peaceful one. Firegga and Pyreggina were used primarily in industry, while Avanchina was a very extreme (but nonetheless, the only real) cure for the removal of scarab eggs (scarabs liked to use the bodies of victims as hosts for their offspring). Likewise for Destructus, and Pyrio (the incendiary version of Pyreggina), and Ripperus Laceratus was used by the wizard butcher industry. True, Stunning Hexes could kill if enough force was used, but it took quite of bit of luck and quite a few hexes to get the job done. Overall, though, the wizard world was geared, weapon wise, to bringing in an enemy alive for future punishment; the muggle world was simply to kill the bastard in a manner up the person using the weapon, be it quick or slow, or to maim him in any way conceivable. 

Harry drew his wand (he had kept it on his right wrist on rubber bands, so that with a flick of the wrist it slid into his hands), pointed it, and muttered, "Stupefy!" The hex it the man and slammed him out of the odorous puddle and against the opposite wall. Harry, breathing hard from the dream, walked over, and took a look at the man. Harry had hit him good with the bottle, as he was sans three front teeth, and was bleeding copiously from his mouth. The man moaned, and Harry was about to ask him just who the fuck he was (he didn't look like Percy or Amos, so he doubted if it was Fudge's goon squad gunning for him) so he could make his way back to No.12 Grimmauld and report his…vision when he heard a can clatter to his left. Harry whirled, and sure enough, it was another man, this one dressed in a black pea coat with a wand drawn, making his way over to him. The man raised his wand, but Harry was marginally quicker as he cast Protego without his wand (and almost puked again as a wave of nausea passed over him briefly) then fired off  "Locomotor Mortis". 

His curse hit the man below the groin, and he fell face down into the dirt. Not taking a moment to pause, the thought of questioning the two men was forgotten as Harry realized, his mind in it's nigh-drugged like state, that if there were two, there were probably more people lurking in the shadows. Beyond that, a comrade, a fellow wizard, was at the moment bleeding his life out somewhere. Harry wasn't sure where, and it wasn't important. All that mattered was that he had to tell someone in the know the information so that a search could be conducted. He would have wanted the same thing done were the circumstances reversed. 

Running forward, Harry jumped over the man as he slid the wand back into a coat pocket, taking care to keep his hand on it. Moving fast, he bobbed and weaved as he came out of the alley and made his way across the road. There was an underground station only a block or two away, he might make it…

A pair of bright lights stopped near Harry as he crossed, and a voice called out, "Oi, watch where the fuck you're going!" Harry blinked, and stopped as he saw that he came close to being run over by a black cab with white and yellow checkering. _This could be useful_, Harry thought. Running over, he opened the passenger side door, and tossed over a twenty-pound note, and ordered the man to drive him to an address near Vauxhall Cross. The man grunted, and within a half hour (there wasn't that much traffic at that hour) they were there. Harry made his way to one of the few underground stations that he had really memorized, and that was the one near SIS headquarters. Alex had shown them the place when he was training them how to spot and break a trail.

Harry caught a tube ride to the one closest No.12 Grimmauld. Getting off, Harry made his through alleys and side streets to No.12. He ran and opened the door and got in. There, he found Moody, Lupin, and Mr. Weasley putting on coats getting ready to leave. Judging by the bracelets, it wasn't going to be a social call. 

All three of them seemed surprised to see him, which was when Sirius and Mrs. Weasley came out of the Dining Room. The former seemed to be quite angry, but that changed as he saw Harry. Mrs. Weasley ran over to Harry, hugged him, and said to Arthur, "Tell Albus he's back, Arthur." Arthur nodded as Moody looked over at Harry. "Where have you been lad?"

Harry shook his head, "No time, we need to find Sturgis Podmore. He's bleeding bad!" 

A sudden chill seemed to go through the air as everyone started looking at him strangely. Harry started to get frustrated, "Well, what the fuck is the matter with you, move! Someone's life is on the line!" Whatever it was that was bothering them still bothered them, as all seemed transfixed to just gape at him, and even Molly Weasley was shocked enough that profanity didn't seem to register.

Moody was the first to recover, as he shook his head and said, "Podmore's dead." Now it was Harry's turn to be shocked, but before he could answer any more questions he was hustled by all of the adults into the kitchen. The twins, Ron, and Ginny were there, but not for long as Mrs. Weasley shooed them out. Harry caught Ginny's eye, and saw once again that it was filled with concern and worry; he managed to give it a quick furtive look and hoped she could read his thoughts that he was all right. 

That ended as Lupin asked, "All right, Harry, tell us what you've been doing since this morning?" Harry, still rather numbed from the death of Podmore, shook his head, marshaled his thoughts, and began to recite everything that had happened. The message from Books, his movements through the London Metro area, the meet, how he had spotted the wizard tailing him, the ambush he had set so he could capture the tail and figure out just what was going on…Harry told of everything, and watched the reactions as he told of how he had been…something that had attacked Podmore. 

As he finished with his thought that he believed he had been a snake of some sorts (just as he the thought occurred to him that Voldemort owned a hefty-sized pet reptile named Naginni) the fireplace flamed, and within a moment Alex stepped forth and started dusting himself off. Alex, wearing slacks and a blue sweater, didn't seem too happy. He went over to Harry and held out a slip of paper. "Care to explain this, lad?" Harry looked at the paper, and it was one informing him of his immediate loss of his wand for the usage of underage magic, coupled with expulsion from Hogwarts. Harry blanched, and suddenly he felt nauseous. 

Alex looked at him, and continued, "That's not all." The second piece of paper he showed Harry was a notice charging him with assault and battery on Ministry personnel in the lawful execution of their duties. Harry's urge to throw-up worse then previously continued at a madcap pace. Looking around, he spotted a sink and made a beeline towards it, but was stopped as Alex showed him the final piece of paper, this time saying he was to attend a disciplinary hearing for both charges tomorrow at ten in the morning. Attached to it was a note ordering Alex to find Harry and for him to sit tight until the next day; it was signed Albus Dumbledore.

"Sitrep, Harry, now." Harry filled his uncle in on just what had happened. Alex put a finger on his chin, and appeared to be thoughtful. He glanced over at Moody, and asked, "Alastor, does the Ministry still maintain the PRD section of the Department of Mysteries?" Alastor shrugged, "Possibly…you think Umbridge and her goons were using Polyjuice to disguise themselves to follow young Harry there?"

"Definite possibility. PRD, Harry," Alex turned to Harry to explain, "Stands for Polyjuice Registry Division. It was a group that we used during the last war to create large varieties, note the word, of the Polyjuice so that our tail teams could merely use a different Polyjuice potion to change their image using hair samples drawn from barber shops across the country. From what it sounds, it feels like they may have spotted you, and followed you from there. The fact he was caught through the chocolate, good spotting by the way, means we are probably dealing with amateurs, and definitely not anyone from either the Auror's Division or even from the Department of Law Enforcement. My guess is you were dealing with Diggory and Percy Weasley." 

Alex paused and looked over at Harry. "Still, that isn't the main issue here. What is more worrisome is that vision you had…Tell me, how did it feel, this vision? Was it like a dream?"

Harry nodded. Alex continued to ask questions: how did it feel, did it feel like he was under the Imperius, had he ever felt as though he were in control during the assault upon Podmore? Harry had to nod, as he told his uncle that when one of the wizard followers had touched him, he had felt himself lose control in the fight. Alex shook his head, "Not that. That's just what happens when you are in a state of near shock, and your training and instincts to survive kick in. You'll pretty much attack and destroy anything that comes near you. No, what I mean was did it feel as though you were in control of yourself as that thing attacked?" Harry thought to himself for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I could feel what that snake felt, for the way it smelt was snake-like since it used its tongue, but I couldn't control my or its actions."

Alex nodded, then looked over at Moody, "Did Kingsley and Tonks mention if they saw any sign of a snake when they found him?" Him was obviously Podmore. Moody shook his head, and said, looking over at Harry, "Not a sign. My guess he's using his pet for reconnaissance. What is worrisome is what we've discussed is becoming more and more clearer." Harry wondered what was happening and he asked him, "And what might that be?" 

"That you're a very weird kid, young man."

"Fuck off, Moody! Now spit it out, what's the matter?"

"Harry, are you aware of why you were being taught wand-less magic, despite the fact that it taxes your concentration to the utmost, and drains you of energy like a leaky cauldron when it does so very little besides counter-curses and the simplest of charms? You know why we've been teaching you Occlumency during the year?" This was Alex, looking at Harry, his eyes hard. Harry shook his head, "Just general training? Training to help me become an Auror, like I told you during the summer?" Alex nodded, "Partly, but that isn't why. That's the main reason why." He tapped the scar on Harry's forehead. Harry reached up, and started to realize just what his uncle was getting at. 

Alex continued, "From the time he cursed you, there was a connection of sorts between you and the Dark Lord. That much we, by which I mean the Order and the Headmaster, realized from the start, the question is, just how extensive is your connection. Since you can see from inside the bloody bastard's pet means that when he is using his mental faculties, you will able to…feel it I suppose. Anyhow, to offset some of the worst possibilities, we put you through training designed for you to regulate your thoughts, and hopefully filter out the occasions when you can see the Dark Lord's activities as a result of your mind being at its most vulnerable. At least that was how Snape explained it to me…"

"Give me one of the possibilities you mentioned? Worst case?" Harry had sinking, lead-like feeling in his stomach.

Moody and Alex looked at each oteher, and Molly said to Alex, her tone warning. "He's too young, Alex. He…"

"Deserves to know since it is his ass on the line." He looked Harry straight in the eye, "The worst case is that You-Know-Know could be possessing you in a fashion stronger then, but similar to, the Imperius."

The lead in Harry's lead fell out; he could feel his head getting lighter. He had killed Sturgis Podmore… a roaring in his ears…

A sharp clap on his head brought him back to reality. His uncle was in front of him, and his eyes were concerned. Harry understood his uncle had slapped him on the back of his head, to bring him back to the real world. 

"You listening, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"You've done nothing wrong, and have acted as you were trained and expected to do. The injuries Sturgis received were so bad that even though they found him almost immediately after he was injured he was fucked anyhow. Shit like this happens in war, Harry, and all you can do is carry on." Alex paused before he continued, "If you're thinking any guilty nonsense over this, forget it. All that happened was that you had the misfortune of observing it, you didn't participate it. Don't blame yourself, and carry on with your Occlumency to keep control of your mind. Clear?" Harry nodded, and asked to be dismissed. At the moment, all he wanted to do…He wasn't sure, just that he had to have some space, and think.

Alex dismissed him, and told him to bring his suit around to Molly Weasley, as he had to look his best for his hearing tomorrow. Harry nodded numbly, and left, closing the door behind him. It was obvious that they had business to discuss without him, and Harry was more then willing to oblige them. 

Exiting he saw that Ginny, the twins and Ron were staring at him. It was obvious that they had been listening in. Harry felt a helpless rage in him, similar to that he had felt before only in Snape's class. "Get an earful?" he asked savagely. 

All but Ginny looked down. She stared back at him, and Harry could tell she was irritated. Ron looked up, and asked, "Eh…Want to talk of it."

"No, I don't want to talk of it. So excuse me." He turned and made his way for the stairs and his room. As he got to his door, Ginny ran up, and grabbed him by his arm. "Come on, let's talk of it…"

"DAMN IT GINNY I TOLD YOU! I DON"T WANT TO TALK OF IT!" Harry lost it for a moment, and then looked horrified as he realized he had yelled at her. Ginny looked startled by what had happened, and then her face became angry. "Is that so, Harold James Potter? That is probably the stupidest thing I have heard of considering there is only one person who has been under the dominion of Voldemort before that we know of. Remember her? The red-headed girl you had to save years ago? Me?" Her voice was icy, sarcastic. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to think as he had, in his depressed state totally forgotten of that salient fact. Nonetheless, the last thing in the world he wanted to do was talk of his unique, and newly discovered problem. 

He looked at Ginny, torn between wanting to talk, to let loose what was starting to build up, or to…He didn't want to do anything else to anger her, or rather hurt her, for he could see in her eyes that she was hurt by his unwillingness to trust her. 

They stared like that for a few minutes then Ginny turned and headed back towards the staris. She stopped at the staircase, turned and said, "If you can break out of the shell you seem to be so desperate to create, I'll be downstairs. Remember this also, when you want to be alone," She said that last most scathingly, "That all your goddamn tantrums do is hurt those that care for you the most. Those that…" She mouthed 'love you the most', turned, and headed down the stairs.

Harry had felt miserable before; now, he felt he had hit an all-time emotional low. Part of him wanted nothing more then to go, embrace Ginny, kiss her and beg for her forgiveness at him being a prat. Yet, he couldn't force himself to do that as he turned, entered his room, and closed the door. Going over to his trunk, he opened it and removed a half-empty bottle of bourbon, and drainied the thing in one long gulp. He knew what he was doing was wrong, that the booze wouldn't help things much, but he needed to lose himself in the oblivion of Bacchus…

Realizing that it was empty, he looked at it, trying to block out the image of Sturgis Podmore as his life's blood drained from him. Harry could see the man's reflection in the glass of the bottle…The face changed between that of Ginny and Hermione being savaged, and then settled on Ginny, with that hurt and startled look on her face as he yelled at her…

"FUCK!" With the oath, he turned and threw the bottle against the wall, and watched it break. Harry breathed hard, the guilt of everything threatening to roll him under a giant could of depression. Watching the glass, he realized that if his life wasn't that already, it was close to it already.

Broken. 


	29. Chapter XXIX: For Friendship

Disclaimer: See Chapter I, you know the drill

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

Again sorry for the delay, but have reached a 100 reviews, and am taking into account some of the things that were pointed out. This chap was one of the hardest to write and have a newfound respect for guys like John Grisham. On another note I am somewhat angry at ff.net due to their POS decision to purge fics of chaps just for author's notes, as I really worked on those essays that I had before. Ah well, shit happens.

Also, if you don't like things to turn dark, well, they'll be getting real dark, real soon. This may be one of the few chaps left where…well, just read. 

**Chapter XXIX: For Friendship**

Harry stood in front of the mirror and ran his hand along his chin, the events of the previous evening running through his mind like clockwork. Eyes searching blankly, Harry felt the texture of his skin, and wondered if he should have slept more. Judging by how his face looked at the moment that appeared to be the case.

After Ginny had stormed off, Harry had locked the door and proceeded to get pissed…royally. Harry had run through heavens knew how many bottles, and with the aid of a handy null-Apparation generator Moody had give him, done so without any interference. Moody had told him as he was given it that the last thing Harry would care for was a gang of Death Eaters to Apparate in his bedroom whilst he slept to do him much physical harm. Harry scoffed at the notion (after all, he slept lightly and with wand _and_ dagger under his pillow these days), but had to admit it made a handy tool if you wanted to get drunk. And that was precisely what Harry had done, though his attempt to find solace in the bottle had failed miserably. He had spent the night in a daze of disturbed nightmare as he conjured image upon image of just what the hell would happen with Voldemort possessing him. For a brief moment, he had wildly considered taking his Browning and saving Voldemort the trouble, but had been so inebriated that one moment he had been getting up from against the desk he had been sitting under (in his state, it had seemed a great place to sit, despite the plush chair and bed next to it), and the next he had found his pocket watch chiming softly as it struck 0400, with himself laying crashed on the floor.

At most, Harry had slept three hours, and drunk who knew how much liquor. In short, he would be going to court half-in-the-bag hung-over and deprived of sleep. Not good, not good at all, but Harry had learned how to make oneself presentable from a fine stable of Her Majesty's drunks, whore-chasers, and assorted lunatics and got to work. Despite the fact his joints felt as though they were welded shut, his head about to fall off, and his eyeballs burning, Harry had showered (he was fortunate in that he had one of the larger suites in the house, and unlike last time had his own private bath), shaved, and chugged down Blood Bath. Blood Bath was a special concoction Alex had shown him consisting of an anti-hangover potion, muggle aspirin, and a splash of Boccardi rum and cranberry juice for flavor. It was a vile, nasty brew, but as with everything Alex did with such material things, it hit the spot. 

Physically, Harry felt loads better, but mentally he was bleak and raging at himself. Partly over Podmore getting slotted, but mostly because it really, _really_ bothered him about Ginny. Harry had never raised his voice at her, and it frightened him for as a man who had become accustomed to violence, he knew full well that that wasn't far off when emotions reached the boiling point and things went physical. The mere idea of him raising a hand against her disgusted him, intensely. After a long shower, he had spent his time shaving, taking things slows, thinking of just what the fuck he was going to do with himself. Just when it seemed he had shit sorted; something else seemed to rise out of the mists and fucked it all over again…

"You going to stand there all day, lad? Or you gonna make something of yourself?"

Harry spun around, and saw his uncle staring in a corner of his room, looking at him nonchantedly. In his right hand was Harry's Browning, in his left, his wand. Alex shook his head slowly, and said, "Sloppy lad, sloppy." Walking over to Harry, he placed the pistol and wand on the dresser and spoke softly, "Were I a hostile, I would be using that razor on your dresser to remove that scar you have and earn myself a hefty reward from the Dark Lord. Need I go on?" Harry could sense the message, yet he didn't care nonetheless. 

"How the fuck did you get in here?" 

Alex nodded his head toward a small door Harry had tried opening, only to find it blocked by a wall of wood. Harry presumed that it had once been a cupboard or closet and had been blocked off for who know what. Basically, he had seen it, labeled it harmless, and forgotten all about it. Obviously, it wasn't that harmless judging by the fact his uncle was in a room Harry had sealed against Apparation, locked magically, and charmed securely against magical eavesdropping.

"Moved the furniture around the storage room a bit, greased the hinges and lock, and opened. Any other silly questions?"

Harry didn't reply, and stared at his uncle blankly. With the way his mind was working, it wasn't arousing his curiosity to ask just how the hell Alex seemed to know everything so well. Alex gave him a hard look for a minute, and then softened. "Ginny seemed rather upset that you wouldn't talk to her or your friends. Got into a tiff, you two did, now did you?" Harry looked down at his feet, not trusting himself to reply. Alex continued, "I take it was for that more so then the other that you got pissed wasn't it? Or was it a bit of both?" Harry only nodded. Alex laid a hand on his shoulder, and shook him gently. "Steady lad, steady. It get physical or what?"

"Nah, but…" Harry couldn't go on, but his uncle seemed to understand.

"It's all right, fights happen. It's the nature of the beast, as even I fought with my Liz time to time. All part of being a man. Understand?"

"No"

Alex laughed, and then his face grew serious. He brushed away at a bit of dust on Harry's shirt, and said, "Nonetheless, control what's going on in you as you got some important shit up ahead. Think you can control yourself?"

Harry closed his eyes, breathed deeply to help expel the thoughts of self-disgust at his conduct towards those he loved, and nodded at his uncle. Alex seemed satisfied with the answer, as he picked up Harry's coat from where it lay on his bed and tossed it over. "Look sharp, Harry. You're going before the magistrates, and they don't appreciate those who aren't dressed by Pat Cox. 'Course, it tain't like they can send you to Queen Liz's army now can they?" Harry smiled at the old joke, as even the British army no longer cleared the country's jails for thugs, hooligans, and lunatics to fight for Queen and country.

Feeling a surge of hope, he quickly finished dressing, and paused, as he was about to put on his weapons. Giving his uncle a quizzical look, Harry received a nod, and the explanation reiterated that no matter the situation, he was to be armed in some way or another _at all times_. Alex told him that when he was searched at the Ministry, they would deal with the situation when it came up. Until then, he was to be armed. As for the Ministry… "Considering who'll be playing barrister for you, don't sweat it."

"Who's that?"  
  
"The Headmaster, who else? Think Albus would leave you in trouble? Not bloody likely."

Harry smiled weakly, for he knew that as soon as something happened Dumbledore would be involved. Just as he was about to ask how his headmaster would help him out, Alex put a hand on his arm and gently steered him towards the door. 

"Come on, lad, no time to fuck about. 'Sides, your mates are waiting downstairs." Together, overcoats in hand, they went outside in the hallway and then to the kitchen. Mad-Eye Moody and Mudungus Fletcher were sitting at the table, equally well dressed and wands out on the table. The rest of the Weasley clan, Sirius, and Remus were seated around the table, eating breakfast quietly, and with much less banter then in previous years. Arthur Weasley had been reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ when he looked up at Harry, and smiled. "Morning, Harry, did you get any sleep?" Harry was slightly distracted, for he tried to get eye contact with Ginny, and she had merely stared into her bowl of corn flakes, and continued spooning her food. The twins were rather subdued, and seemed to find the top of the table an interesting sight to watch; Ron looked up at Harry, and tried to say something though words seemed to fail him. 

After a moment, Harry remembered that Mr. Weasley was talking him to, and that he really should answer, as the Weasleys' had always been good to him. Not to mention the fact entered his mind that the more he continued to stare at Ginny, the quicker the whole game would become unglued. No matter how bad their troubles were, Harry knew he always would love her more then his own life. Indeed, the past several months that they had been going out and seeing each other had been easily one of the greatest moments of his life, and nothing else much mattered to him. 

He had once tried to talk it over with Alex, to figure things out. Alex had laughed at him, and then got serious. "Love, lad, is something you only know when you feel it. Try to understand how it works, and the more it will confuse you, though it really should be simple, for when you feel it, you'll know it and know that that it is permanent." Harry had taken his words to heart, and he and Ginny's relationship had been a bright shining star.

Until the previous night, but...

Harry smiled, and took up a seat next to Alistair. Ginny was on his left flank and it was due to that, that Harry sat next to Ginny, as he knew that should she want to him to be close. Besides, Ginny and he still had a game to play, and to ensure that Voldemort and his vermin were in the dark, he would have to use any means at his disposal to ensure that his friends remained in the dark as well. After all, that was how the rules played in the real world, as the less people knew of anything that had to be kept secret, the less likely it was that something dramatic could occur.

"Some, but I'm a bit nervous. Is there any word, sir, on just how this trial is to proceed?"

Arthur ran a hand through his and said, "Not sure, as Fudge is calling for a closed door session of the Wizengamot…"

"Full or partial court, Arthur?" This was Alex, who was sipping a cup of tea provided by Molly Weasley. Harry was lost by what his uncle was asking Arthur, yet paid attention. Ginny glanced over at him, and asked quietly as Alex and Arthur started talking, with Arthur standing from the table to speak with Alex, of the intricacies of magical law enforcement and wizard law, "Done being stupid, or did you drink it off?" Mrs. Weasley was busy making breakfast (she insisted on Harry eating, and Harry knew he had no choice as this could very well be his last meal as a free man), and it was only the twins, Ron, and Ginny sitting next to him. Ginny's voice almost Snape-like in its acidity.

Harry bit off a sharp retort he had brewing, and said, "Both." He leaned back into his chair, and looked around the table. Shrugging, he spoke, "Sorry for being a prat last night." Part of him thought he should say more, but what else could you say if you just discovered that at any moment a homicidal dark wizard could gain possession of your bloody mind, and use your body with you being an outside observer at best?

Not wanting to push the issue, Harry leaned back and took a look around. Ron seemed to be easing up and the twins, shrugging, seemed to be talking quietly over a piece of parchment. Ginny, though, still seemed angry. She glared at him, and Harry turned his eyes toward his uncle and Arthur, pretending to listen to them though his mind was still on the rather boiling relationship he was having over Ginny. Harry, for his part, was trying to think of a way he could communicate with Ginny, that he was sorry more then anything else in the world, and to beg forgiveness. Yet he knew that as he tried to think of a way, that there wasn't going to be a way and that the mettle of their relationship would be tested. 

It wasn't too long before the test began as a pop sounded in the other room, and Dumbledore entered.  The headmaster smiled at Harry and the rest, and shook his head as Molly offered him breakfast. He seemed unperturbed by the fact he had lost a good man the night before; this angered Harry before he realized that Dumbledore was probably hardened to losing people under his command, and that his grief was locked up for another time. 

Dumbledore sat down between Arthur and Alistair, and filled a teacup with tea. Not bothering to put any sweets in it, he drank the Earl Grey straight. Arthur cleared his throat, and asked, "Is there any news from the Minister, Albus?" Dumbledore nodded his head, and looked over at Harry.   
  


"There will be a closed door hearing of the Wizengamot, though it will be full court." The adults seemed to be relieved at this development, though Harry, with his miniscule knowledge of wizard law, didn't know what was going on, and was having to place his trust, indeed his life, in the hands of Dumbledore and Alex. Harry didn't mind, as he trusted both implicitly. 

The relief on the adults didn't last too long as Dumbledore looked over at Harry, and told him, his voice grave, "Harry, one of the conditions is that you are to be questioned under the Veritaserum. It will be administered by a Department of Magical Law Enforcement interrogation team, and it will last as long as the hearing." Silence reigned in the room, as the magnifications of what was said sank in.

Harry felt numb, for he fully realized what was at risk. There were his professional considerations, as the entire spectrum of Hogwarts security would be visible for the world to be seen, the undoubtedly illegal training his uncle had put him through, and the countless times over the years he had broken so many rules that were it up to Snape, he would have been expelled dozens of times over. More importantly, though, was the fact his relationship with Ginny would become public, and the danger to her, bad as it was being a member of the Weasley family and her brother's friendship with Harry, would increase by that much more. 

The numbness went, and for the first time in a long time, Harry felt the beginnings of panic, for all of the actions, all of skulduggery and deceit he done over the course of the school year had been to protect Ginny, and now, as it appeared his relationship with her was about to go up in flames, it was going to go public and she would become that much more of a target. 

Alex, though, came through. "Albus, why don't you allow a joint questioning as there are certain matters Harry is privy to which must not become public. Especially the intelligence related aspects of his position, as well as certain other details in regards to his personal life which should not be questioned due to the danger they would pose to others." The headmaster smiled sadly, "I've already discussed it with Fudge. He will only grant us the capability to do that only with the approval of Amelia Bones." Alex nodded, "Well, at least with her we'll be able to get as close to a fair hearing as we can possibly get with Fudge in charge of it."

Harry didn't know what else to do, but nod, and pretend confidence. Glancing over at Ginny, he could see that she had softened up, but Harry was willing to bet she was still riled over the whole thing. He knew that he loved her; he only hoped that she loved him, no, that her love was strong enough to withstand the tests that Harry was sure to occur.

*      *       *

An hour later, Harry found himself walking through a rubbish filled alley near Whitehall with Arthur Weasley. Moody, Shacklebolt, and Diggle were providing security around them and would remain with them until they were in the Ministry. Alex had gone ahead with the headmaster to handle some of the legal preliminaries. Molly was taking the rest of the family via the Floo network to support Harry, except for Sirius, who had to stay behind as apparently the magical and muggle bureaucracies were alike in that they didn't allow pets in the building, ruling out the possibility that they could bring the 'family dog' to the proceedings. Harry appreciated the support, knew that it was a sign just how much of a family they had become to him, but he wondered what Molly and Arthur would do once she heard about some of the shit he pulled. As for Ginny...

The concept of losing her had started to sink in, and it hurt badly to say the least. Harry known physical pain, disappointment, but this small taste was so much worse...

_She loves you, nothing will change that_...

They exited from the alley into a narrow street that didn't look too healthy. There was a dilapidated-looking reddish phone box, a wall of graffiti, a pub that might very well have been a twin of the _Leaky Cauldron_, and a few unattractive offices whose services were hidden by the grime covering the windows. Moody and security element took up positions along the street, while Harry and Arthur entered the box. Arthur punched in a few numbers, telling him how the Ministry once had to place memory charms on a bunch of people when a group of squibs had been mistakenly told to arrive at the Ministry as a group. Harry memorized the numbers, and as he laughed with the stupidity of the bureaucracy, he thought to himself.

_Six, two, double four, two…Magic…Very funny_

Harry watched as the view slowly sunk into the ground as it seemed like the box was sinking into the ground. "Sir, how does this work?" 

Arthur smiled and said, "Simple levitation spell, while we have a levitation spell that makes it look like nothing has happened."

One minute, and the lift stopped, surrounded by walls of cobblestone. A cool woman's voice asked for their business, and when Arthur stated their business, a silver badge appeared with Harry's name, and purpose in the Ministry in the change slot of the phone. Harry pinned it on, feeling ridiculous as it looked like something one found in the bottom of a cereal box, but as soon as he put it on the door opened. Exiting, Harry stopped and took a moment to take a good long look around. 

They had entered a long hallway with a shiny hardwood floor, with the 'lift' as Harry thought of it forming the right end of a long, rectangular hallway. On the left wall of the hallway was lined with fireplaces, the metalwork gilded, through which groups of harried looking arrived while equally harried looking individuals went up in clouds of Floo powder in the fireplaces along the right wall. At the opposite end of the hallway was a set of golden gates, beyond which appeared to be another hallway. Next to the gates was a small station where a blue-robed wizard was doing something with wands. Harry knew that that was the security station for visitors into the Ministry, as Moody had briefed him before they had left. 

Harry and Arthur walked down the hallway, Harry admiring the effects of the blue ceiling and its swirling golden designs of stars and moons. They passed a gilded water fountain of a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf, and Harry saw that like muggle fountains that the bottom was filled with coins for charity. Harry, ever a polite one, took a couple of bronze Knuts from his pocket and tossed them in. 

At the gates, the wizard pulling stag (British soldier's slang for guard duty) had Harry divest himself of his wand, weapons, and empty his pockets. Harry did so, and held his arms out as the wizard ran a golden rod scanner-like over his body, and then registered his wand at the station, which was a simple matter of placing on some sort of scale looking thing, and having the guard (introduced to him as Eric Munch) examine it. For what, Harry didn't know though he was sure it was only to record the magical signature all wands have. The wand returned to him, but was informed that the other weapons would be held for him until his business was completed in the Ministry. Harry complied, as he wasn't totally unarmed with his wand…and a quill that he had made extra sharp.

Arthur and Harry went down the hallway, and got in one of the lifts. Besides them were various wizards and witches, all of who looked as though they were busy and doing things. None of them gave Harry a second glance, though a few of them greeted Arthur. One of the more interesting characters was a wizard holding what looked like a traveling case for a pet. Judging by the flames that were coming forth from it occasionally, Harry had no doubt that it sure as hell wasn't a kitty cat, and that odds were Hagrid would feel at home with it.

At Second Floor, they got off, and went through another hallway into an area Harry saw was the headquarters for the Aurors' division, which was a large room full of cubicles largely reminiscent of a detectives bullpen found in any large-scale police department. Harry mentioned this, as it seemed as though it looked too easy for any investigation to lose its confidentiality based on the rather open atmosphere. Arthur explained that there was a system in place that magically encrypted each document, including the intra-office papers that flew around like paper airplanes. Additionally, most casework took place outside of the Ministry, in the field. 

Next to the Aurors' offices was Arthur's office, where Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the boys, and Ron and Hermione were waiting. According to Dumbledore and Alex, their court time wasn't for another two more hours, since it was scheduled for 1100, and it had been planned so that they could have some time to play with should it be needed.

That wasn't the case as Mrs. Weasley hurriedly informed them that the time had been changed to 0900; the time being 0905. Arthur looked flustered for a minute and then thanked his wife, kissed her, and said he was going to escort Harry to the courtroom. Molly Weasley gave him a hug and told him all was going to be all right. Ginny smiled at him, and told him the same. 

Harry saw in her eyes the same worry as right after the firefight in the Broomsticks. Afraid that he would give the game up, he smiled back, and followed Arthur back to the lift, and got off at the last floor, which was merely listed as 'Department of Mysteries'. Arthur led him through a hallway, and next to a single black door at the end of it, they went down to another level via the staircase. Arthur was starting to lose his cool, and they were all but running now to Courtroom Ten, which he told Harry was where his case was to be examined. They reached the final, or what he presumed was the final level, in the Ministry, which was a series of rooms with heavy wooden doors, dead bolts, and locks. In all, not too much different then any prison he knew of. 

_Better get used to it, Harry my lad, that could be sights you'll be seeing for the rest of you life_, Harry thought to himself wryly. At the door marked with a Roman numeral ten, Arthur wished him good luck, and told him he couldn't enter as the visitor's badge was enchanted to door, so that only Harry could enter. Harry thanked him, and tried to shake his hand, and was instead embraced by Mr. Weasley. As he headed towards the door, Arthur stopped him, and had him pin on the medal he had won during his second year. Him and Ron, for slaying the basilisk, and saving Ginny…

_Wonder if I'll see her again…_

Harry put that thought out of his mind, as for all he knew he could be placed under Legilimancy the second he entered the room. There was a mission of sorts at hand, and he needed his game face on. Besides, if today was going to be his last day as a free man, and the bastards out there won this one, he was going to have them remember that the son of James Potter and Lilly Evans went out with guts of steel. His face set, he touched one of the doors, which opened of its own accord, and went in.

To his surprise, he found himself in a setting that he found familiar, but couldn't place. However, that was only for a minute as he saw that he was in the same room as the vision he had seen the previous year in Dumbledore's office. Before him were the rows of seats that rose above him, quite a few filled with people in plum-colored robes with a gold badge that had a silver 'W' in old English on it. The front row was still several feet above the ground floor, and Harry deduced that must be where the governors sat. At least, he recognized one of them: the scowling face of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. On Fudges right was a serious-looking old woman with a monocle in her left eye. To Fudge's left sat a toad-like looking woman. Harry presumed that she was Umbridge, after remembering Arthur Weasley's description of her as a human tapeworm. 

On the other side of the courtroom sat his uncle, and the headmaster. The expression of Dumbledore whilst Alex looked his usual: absolutely confident. Harry saw that and tried to copy him further.

"Do you realize that you are almost half an hour late?" Fudge asked scathingly to Harry. Harry had to bite down a smile, as Fudge trying to appear cold, and all-powerful was failing miserably. Snape did a far more capable job…

"Yes, and for which I apologize to the court for my tardiness, of which I have no excuse." Harry spoke as he went over to one of the chairs, and stood in front of it. Fudge seemed taken aback, and then motioned for him to take a seat. Harry did so and leaned back to stair into the faces of the court. Most stared down at him in frank curiosity, though Harry was able to see that quite a few were openly hostile. He tried the staring trick Alex had, hoping that he would give the impression he was mean fully looking into the faces of the whole court. Harry recognized the room then as the one he had seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve the previous year

Fudge cleared his throat as Harry sat, and began the proceedings. "This session of the Wizangamot is called on the 27th of December, 1995 to hear charges against Harold James Potter, henceforth to be known as the accused. The charges are two counts of assault on officers of the Ministry of Magic Department of Law Enforcement, breaches of the various by-laws in regards to underage magical use, and additional breaches of magical law concerning the exposure of our world to the…What is it Mister Evans?" Fudge was clearly irritated as he had barely begun and already there it looked like there would be problems with the case as Alex raised a hand.

"I believe the charges concerning the exposure of our world should be dropped based on questioning of the subject and examination by myself, and retired Auror Alistair Moody of the crime scene."

"How so?" This was the monocled woman, who seemed to be interested in what Alex had to say. Alex nodded, and in a short five minute discourse presented the fact the whole engagement took place in a dark alley, in the wee hours of the morning, and subsequent examination of the area ensure that there had been no other people within site of the alley for at least two hours after the fight. Alex concluded, "Therefore, these charges have no basis, and should be dismissed out of hand, Madam Bones" Harry figured out that this was Susan Bones's aunt or was it grandmother? Regardless, she was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which included the Detectives Bureau, and the Auror's Division. Next to the Minister himself, she probably was the second most influential in the British wizard world. 

Bones nodded, and replied, "Agreed, though I must let it be stated for the record that I am not surprised considering how the case was removed from the jurisdiction of the Department of Law Enforcement and to that of the Minister of Magic almost as soon as it occurred." The last bit was obviously directed to the Minister, who scowled, and said, "Nonetheless…"

"Nonetheless, Minister, you recall Article III of the Charter of Wizard Law Enforcement? That the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has final authority of a case in regards to evidentiary grounds?" Fudge looked angry, and then cleared his throat as he declared that the various charges in regards to breaking the laws of secrecy, but that they would hear evidence in regards to the other charges. The Ministry called forth its witnesses, notably Percy Weasley and Amos Diggory from the Office of the Minister. Harry was pleased to see them, as each was called forth, to either limp, or in the case of Percy, be minus a few teeth. 

Amos was first, and didn't look at Harry as he walked through the doors behind Harry and stood before the court. His testimony told a simple enough story: As part of their ongoing investigation into the Triwizard Tournament, they had been following Harry Potter after he had been spotted, wholly by chance, by members of the Detectives Bureau on Oxford Street. From there, he had been followed until Diggory and Percy Weasley had arrived to take up the chase. Potter had been followed to bar in the East End carrying a briefcase, said briefcase was deposited there, and they had followed him from there into the alley where both Percy and Amos had been subsequently been ambushed. Diggory gave much mention to the fact it appeared that Potter had consumed about a quart of a gin during his meal.

He ended his testimony by only then giving Harry a look of utter contempt, but that was wiped off his face as Madam Bones tore into his testimony. Apparently the whole concept of a special unit operating on her turf, doing things that the DMLE (Department of Magical Law Enforcement) normally handled such as surveillance, angered her severely. She gave the statement that the whole approach had been reckless, and amateur. When Fudge came to Diggory's defense, she icily responded that if real agents had handled the case, they wouldn't have been seen during their surveillance, much less thrashed by a drunken fifteen year-old.

Alex finished Diggory's testimony when it turned out that there had been no written orders, only verbal ones. The Charter specifically stated written orders were needed, and without them, a whole new dimension was opened up as _they_, instead of Harry, were breaking Wizard Law. This argument was upheld by Bones.

Percy didn't fare too better, as he made much of the fact he had been attacked for no reason. Alex pointedly asked if he had drawn his wand without warning; Percy wound up looking highly discomforted as it became clear that without proper, written authorization he wasn't operating as a legally armed wizard. Indeed, as it was pointed out by Alex, he was no better then a common criminal under those circumstances. He wound up heading to the stands with his tail between his legs much the same way Diggory had. 

Harry understood what was going on, for it became apparent that without the proper authorization, then he could claim self-defense. Yes it was a technicality, yes it didn't exactly show him to be innocent, and it was a long shot just by the virtue of what it was, but it was the only shot he had. Not to mention the fact…

"Mister Potter, the court wishes to hereby question you whilst under the influence of Veritaserum. Are you aware of what that is?" This was Madame Bones, as Minister Fudge seemed to be turning as purple as his bowler with rage over how the proceedings were going.

Before he could answer, Dumbledore rose, "Before that occurs, I must ask that special care in regards to questions concerning his personal life, as well as that of the security of the school be taken." Bones raised an eyebrow, and asked in turn, "I can understand questions in regards to the security of the school, as I, as well as the Minister," she gestured to the Minister, who was now only glaring at Harry and not doing anything else in the proceedings, "but why any in regards to Mister Potter's personal life?"

Dumbledore looked her in the eye, his face expressionless, "I believe I have already informed the Wizengamot as to the current status of the wizard world, and the danger in it." Fudge started to rise, and it appeared he was going to yell, but Harry decided now was the time to chance it, and roll the dice…

"Ma'am, I'm fully aware of the effects of the potion, and am willing to answer any questions. However, I ask that none be asked of my private life as I would sooner not have any of the people involved be exposed to any undue attention." Bones shook her head, and replied, "We need testimony in regards to your character…However, I am willing to grant a hold on a specific person and period of questioning if you have a significant other. Is that the case, and if so, from about when?"

"Yes, and from around mid-October of this year." That wasn't exactly true, but he figured he had truly started when he gave up Cho, and that was about then. Bones nodded, and it was then a wizard in black entered from the door behind him. One of them Harry recognized as Boderick Bode of the Department of Mysteries, and it was Bode who told him to open his mouth as he removed a small vial and carefully placed three drops on Harry's tongue. 

Harry started to feel…strange. Out of curiosity, he tried moving his limbs and found he had complete control of them. He could still think, yet, he felt as though his whole body was…numb. Almost as though he had no control, yet he obviously still did. So that meant…

"Name?"

"Harold James Potter" It came from Harry's mouth even as he tried to say Harry Potter. _So that is how it is…_, he marveled. Apparently, he could still think, but he had no control of what he could say. _Kind of like being trashed as Doc would put it_, he thought wryly. So, all he could do, and which he basically did, was lean back, and enjoy the ride.

Perhaps enjoy was too strong of a word, as they went far and wide into their questioning. Starting with his child-hood, they delved into areas that he never thought to examine. Life with the Dursley's, with its very thin line between child abuse. How the Boy-Who-Lived damn near didn't make it into Hogwarts. Then came his Hogwarts years.

First year wasn't that bad, in all truth. He hadn't broken very many rules, and one grizzled looking character in the court seemed to be nodding his head in approval when it was told of the final rush to save the Philosopher's Stone. Now, second year though…

"You mean to tell me you brewed Polyjuice Potion, used it to infiltrate another house, gather information, and extricate yourself, all the time undetected?" This was Madame Bones, whose face was expressionless. Harry wondered if she was pissed, or what. Then a thought entered his mind, even as his mouth answered yes. _To hell with her, if they take away my wand and throw me out of Hogwarts, I'll enlist as soon as I can and…what then?_ His train of thought stopped as he saw the Director nod her head, and complement him and his friends on a creative gambit, and more importantly, not get caught while executing it.

Third year was a bit harder to do. Alex was getting up, protesting a lot of questions. Questions such as how he snuck into Hogsmeade so many times, the routes into and out of the castle, and a very pointed discussion on how him and Hermione Granger had freed a dangerous animal and a fugitive of the law. An ugly looking fight was looking quite likely as Alex icily asked Fudge if he really believed Harry would allow the alleged betrayer of his parents to escape unless he had good reason. "Of course, the court is fully aware of the evidence myself, Frank Longbottom, and Elizabeth Falkirk presented to the Wizengamot in the spring of 81 concerning your own activities during the Five Case, and little obviously has changed." Fudge was only stopped by Bones, who asked Harry questions in regards to his fourth year.

That route was stopped rather quickly by Fudge, who informed the court that any and all events of that year were under investigation by the Office of the Minister of Magic. He also added, doubtless as a warning to Bones that the Minister's Review of government officials was also arriving in mid-January. Fudge took over from there, questioning Harry about his summer. Much was made of the fact he had trained to kill, and even more when it came out he had killed at least one, maybe two or three, people in Wales during that little firefight. 

Nonetheless, Alex did a good job showing them it was killed or be killed, and if anyone was to blame it was himself for taking him into a position of such danger. Yet, things probably reached the breaking point when Harry was grilled on his personal life, as apparently even the recent events in Hogsmeade were off-limits and Fudge refused to have any other questions asked about the whole school year. 

"How old are you, Mister Potter?"

"Fifteen years, four months, and …"

"Have you ever been on…intimate relations with a woman?"

"Yes."

"More then one?"

"Yes."

A murmur rose through the crowd, though Harry could see quite a few of the wizards were grinning, whilst a few of the witches were laughing or otherwise shocked. _Well, that can't be helped, as I am the_ Boy_ Who Lived, not a bloody eunuch_! Harry thought to himself wryly. Harry wound up laughing mentally as he heard himself describe how he had spent most of the summer engaged in fornication…a lot of it…and enjoyed it too. Then the attention turned to the previous evening, and Harry described how he felt he had been followed, and after previous events he had undergone (Bones tried to ask just what events, but was silenced again by Fudge) he felt they were hostile and ambushed them. Harry wasn't sure, but he felt that the audience at least understood his motives for what he had done, even though they weren't told the parts in regards to Podmore. 

Fudge at the end was scowling as he finished his questioning. Harry stood there, wondering if they were done, and it appeared quite likely since all three principals (himself, Diggory, and Percy) had testified, and there really wasn't that much evidence they could call forth. Dumbledore stood behind him, and told Fudge, "I shall be calling Harry's uncle, Professor  Evans, as a character witness…"

"Not possible due to the fact he is family. Anyone else, Dumbledore?" Fudge curtly interrupted him.

Alex rose, and offered Dumbledore as a character witness. This too was turned down, "Just what then are the requirements for a character witness for Mister Potter?" Alex was very upset to say the least. Fudge smiled indulgently, and informed him that the witness had to be of adult age (17+ years), and working for the Ministry. Instructors and faculty of Hogwarts were barred due to possible emotional attachment, as well as all family members. Additionally, the witness had to be ready to be called today. Harry could see that this was going to be a problem, as any adult who knew and worked for the Ministry was at great risk of punitive action on Fudge's part. Alex knew it too, and it seemed for once he might have to accept defeat. Harry could tell by the fact his jaw was set and he was staring daggers at Fudge.

Dumbledore though, had a different reaction. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, and said to Fudge, "We have a witness, and if you will allow me a moment?" Fudge seemed surprised, but Bones nodded. The Headmaster picked up a piece of paper, wrote on it, and tapped it with his wands. It turned into a paper airplane, took off, and vanished. Alex went over to Dumbledore and hurriedly whispered in his ear. Of what, Harry wasn't sure, but Dumbledore merely nodded, and Alex sat down.

Which was when the doors opened, and in walked a tall, shapely woman with black hair in a French braid. Harry took a look at her and thought, _Nice…_followed thereafter by _I haven't met this lady in my life_. She was dressed in a black skirt, blouse, and high heels with a woman's overcoat on her arm. Walking slowly, she gazed defiantly about the crowd, though when Harry met her eyes she gave me a smile. Harry somehow felt as though he had seen that smile somewhere before…Where though?

_Can't be one of Meg's girls, I would remember_…

"Name?"

"Abigail Perry, though that is an alias as I am currently an informant for the Auror's Division in regards to Death Eater activity. Which is why I am also under the Polyjuice Potion as well."

"Your relationship to the accused?"

She looked over at Harry, and smiled, "A very intimate one. I believe I was his first lady; isn't that right Harry?" Harry looked at her, and knew without a doubt then who she was. The way she had crossed her legs, folded her hands over each other, and the way her fingers tapped in sequence (middle, fore, pinky and ring) when she was bored answered it. 

Alice 

Harry felt a bit of cold lead form in him, as the whole picture became clear to him. She had disappeared in October to work for Dumbledore and his contacts in the Ministry. Auror's Division, which meant Lucius Malfoy, as Harry remembered all too well how the bastard had been talking about her in Meg's. Harry also knew that Malfoy's father was smarter then he was, and it wouldn't take much for him to figure out Alice from Meg's was the informant for the Ministry. 

Harry looked at her, and there must have been something in his eyes for she shook her head. _Damn it, Alice, if that sick fuck finds out who you are…_

"You employment?" Bones was asking the questions now.

"I worked in Megs Courtesans, which is where I met the young gentleman."

"We need to ask only a few questions…"

"Mister Potter is one of the best men I've ever met. He does not deserve to be harassed in such a fashion as this." 

This drew her the stares of the rest of the court. She stared back. Bones motioned for her to continue.

"Of all the customers I have had to be of service to over the years, only Harry became a friend to me. What he has done for me…Do you know just why I've said of him? For he defended me from a wizard when it wouldn't benefit him, for he believed I was a lady deserving to be treated with respect as well as any other."

"Whom did he defend you from?" Dumbledore's voice was gentle, and tired at the same time.

"Lucius Malfoy"

A uproar arose in the court, as they fully realized that Malfoy must have been a customer of hers in order for something to have happened. Fudge started yelling for order, and after a few minutes, it quieted down enough that Fudge curtly dismissed the witness. Yet before she did so, Alex rose from his chair. "You've placed your life in danger by coming here to testify, based on your current employment." He ran a hand through his hair, and asked, "Why?"

Alice looked at him, and then over at Harry before replying softly.

 "Harry is my friend, perhaps the only one I've ever had. Wouldn't you defend yours?"

With that, she continued her way out of the courtroom.

*     *      *

Harry waited patiently as he stood before the empty rows of seats. The Wizengamot had left the courtroom as they debated his fate. Harry felt a few worms of fear wriggling in his gut. Alex and the Headmaster had done the best they could for him, and if he didn't get off then that was just how the cards played. In the event they shipped his ass of to Azkaban, he didn't have any regrets…Well, there was one.

I'm sorry Ginny, sorry for how I yelled. I only hope that you can forgive me for what I did, and accept that it was in the heat of the…

Harry's admittedly self-destructive train of thought came to an end as the Wizengamot filed back into the courtroom. Fudge seemed angry, while Bones was non-commital. Harry felt a surge of hope go through his breast.

Sure enough, it was Bones who gave the announcement: Not guilty on all counts due to the illegal nature of the people pursuing him. Harry had used magic in self-defense, and was excused from it this time. Bones though warned him that next time he wouldn't be so lucky, and told him he was dismissed with the full apologies of the court. 

Harry sighed as Dumbledore patted him on the shoulder, and said something to him that he didn't pay attention to. Someone was shaking him, and Harry turned to it. It was his uncle, who was smiling. Alex saw his nephew look at him in question, and he pointed towards the doors. Harry turned and saw the Weasley clan coming through the doors. Arthur and Molly, the twins, his best mate Ron, Hermione (_When did she come back? _Harry thought), and his fiery headed (_and tempered, _he thought) lady, Ginny. Harry could see that she was behind the rest of her family, but he saw in her face happiness and joy, and what he hoped was forgiveness.

For there before him, with him, was his family and his friends, and he was there, a free man thanks to them, and a friend.


	30. Chapter XXX: Malfoy's Victory

Disclaimer: See Chapter I, you know the drill

One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. 

A/N: Those weren't prophetic dreams Harry was having of Alice, just memories. On a side-note, I'm heavily researching the chapters after next so it will be a while for an update. Also, I will promise that I am going to complete this work before May (1 year to publishing). Finally, before I write a sequel, I am going to write a complementary R/HR work to go with this.

Oh, and to those of you who care to, if you want to try and predict how this work will go, look up the 1960s British Cambridge Spy Ring case. Understand that, and you just may divine what will happen next.

Warning: It gets dark…

Chapter XXX: Malfoy's Victory 

****

"ONCE KNEW A MAN WHO DIED IN THE WAR."

-"_ONCE KNEW A MAN WHO DIED IN THE WAR_."

"BACK IN NINETEEN FOWTY-FOW."

-"_BACK IN NINETEEN FOWTY-FOW_."

Harry bellowed out the lines of the cadence, called a jody by Doc who was calling it, with the rest of the company. The company was a rifle company of 110 goblins, marching in formation through one of the wider trails in the Forbidden Forest at night. All of them were weighed down with packs, weapons, and other gear; all were also working up a good sweat as they ran the ten or so kilometers back to Hogwarts. At the front was the Goblin captain and the First Sergeant and Harry ran to the side of the formation, lugging his pack, and his CAR-15 slung across his chest. Doc had joined him from spending Christmas with the Longbottoms (Neville had invited him over) to go with Harry in the winter field exercises Bladvak was holding. He had volunteered, Harry on the other hand…

As soon as the Weasley's had been congratulating him, Alex had grabbed Harry by the collar and took him back to Hogwarts by Floo. There, he had told him, smiling in the aggravating manner of his, that since Harry had so much energy to attack people like Diggory and Percy, then he was going to sweat it out running in the woods, digging latrines, more running, digging defensive positions, and did he mention digging latrines? 

Harry had tried to get out of it by saying that he had no kit whatsoever, and Alex had laughed, unloaded a mountain of stuff, and told him to pack. After doing so, he had been handed the assault rifle he practiced with in the Muggle Self-Defense club, and turned over to the tender care of Bladvak. Bladvak had been amused enough that he had turned him over to one of his line companies, and off into the woods they had gone. 

To say he hadn't been amused would be an understatement, no, he was downright angry with his uncle. As Doc would readily testify, he hadn't been an easy person to live with from the next ten days after his trial. Harry had been hoping to spend the remainder of the holiday resting, patching things up with Ginny, and maybe stealing a New Years kiss when it rolled around. Instead, he found himself hammering a rifle pit for himself and Doc out of rock hard ground, and celebrating New Years with chicken gumbo and boudan Doc's aunt in Texarkana had sent him. Oh and freezing his ass off in the snow.

_Still, thank God for Gore-Tex and poncho liners_. Harry thought to himself as he kept up with the best of them, and continued going with Doc's jody. Doc would yell a line; the goblins and Harry would yell it back. The activity made the fatigue and the miles melt away like the snow under their boots. Doc was particularly enthusiastic as his ankle had finally healed and was enjoying himself immensely during the runs.

"'FORE HE DIED HE HAD ONE REQUEST…"

"SEND MY BOY AMONG THE BEST!"

Doc had told him that before he learned he was capable of magic, he had wanted to be a Marine, and he had told Harry of how there were a series of military colleges out there, and he had had his eyes set on one in the south. While the school it had changed a bit in the last few years, the military program there was still one of the best in the US, and he had been shaping his school career around going there. The fact the next-door neighbor when Doc was growing up at Fort Hood, an Army base in Texas, had been an Army Aviator who had gone there helped. Harry couldn't figure out some of the stuff, and thought a good deal of it was odd, but he had to admit this jody was a good one as it got the blood pumping.

The few lights of the school were showing as they reached the last lines of the jody. Doc bellowed the last line, and Harry felt his ears ring slightly as him and the goblins bellowed it back just as loudly. They reached the edge of the trail and ran towards the town, where they were billeted. As they did so, the Goblin first sergeant raised his shotgun into the air over his head and barked, "DRAKEIL!" That was Goblin for Dragon, the nickname of the company.

Everyone put their weapons to a position called High Port, the position the Goblin had it, and yelled back, "COMPANY!" They stepped up the pace, and all but sprinted the last few hundred meters back to their barracks. Once there, Harry and Doc broke off of the formation, and headed up to the castle. Billy Fish was on hand to greet them as he led them to the Arms Room, which was a small stone building near Hagrid's hut that Alex used to keep all the firearms they used in the Self-Defense Class. Fish took their weapons after they had ensured the chambers were clear, unloaded, and on safe. He also took their rucksacks and ammunition before telling them that the Sahib (Alex) wanted them to go, clean up, and relax, as the next day was a school day.

Harry and Doc nodded and took off for the dorm, but somehow Harry didn't want to go back quite yet. He stopped them near the portrait of the Fat Lady, and said to Doc, " I've got a few more things to run through with the Goblins, go on ahead, Doc." Doc nodded, and pointed with his olive drab Marine Corps cover (cap) at Harry's belt kit. "You want me to take it up with me, so I can clean yours with mine? Don't think you need your web gear for that shit."

Harry shook his head, as Doc had said earlier he felt a cold coming on and had told him before they moved out of their bivouac that afternoon of the long soak he was going to take when he got back. "You said you're getting sick. Go wash, and sleep it off. Don't even bother cleaning your kit, okay?"

Doc nodded, and wished him a good night as he gave the password to the Fat Lady and entered the tower. Harry turned and looked around, and ran a hand through his hair. The hair was oily, and he could feel the grime on him from having spent the last ten days washing out of a goddamn canteen cup, which meant the most he had kept clean was wash his face, clean his teeth, and shave. He looked down at his hands, and saw the grit and grime on them, not to mention the fact he knew his face had grit, grime, and dried cammy cream (various shades of green, brown, black camouflage paint). All and all he could do with a shower, yet the residual…adrenaline he supposed from nearly losing everything in court was still with him, and he felt restless. Something a mere shower and rest couldn't dissolve.

Harry decided to go up to the Astronomy Tower, as in addition to the rather pleasant memories he had of the place, it would give him time to think things over as he still wasn't sure how the hell he was going to proceed with Ginny. Then there was the fact he had a good idea Mister and Mrs. Weasley by now had to know of his extracurricular activities over the summer. 

_Yeah, thanks a lot Minister fucking Fudge_. Harry thought to himself as he walked through the deserted hallways. It was half past eleven, and everybody, Filch too it seemed, was asleep. Harry was grateful as he went up the stairs and reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. Opening the door, he found it not as dark as he thought it would be. The roof was largely open, and there had been enough of a moon to have plenty of light to see with. Harry walked over to the edge of one of the walls, and looked to the mountains. They were…_cold, but there is something about them_, he thought to himself. 

Harry rotated his head, and stuffed the knit cap comforter he had been wearing into the inside of his Gore-Tex SAS smock. Alex had outfitted him well with cammy shirt, OD sweater or jumper, smock, and Gore-Tex outer trousers over the issue trousers. Which was why even at the top of the rather drafty tower he was warm as an oven-fresh roll.

_Doubtless cost him a bundle though_, Harry thought. He was starting to feel the belt kit, with its canteens, pouches, butt pack with its luxuries he had packed, and the Kevlar helmet he had hanging off of it. Not to mention the shoulder holster he wore over the lot. 

Maybe I should have given it over to Doc, and then gone to bed… 

"A sickle for your thoughts, Harry." 

Harry froze, and turned around slowly. Sure enough, only her head visible with the Invisibility Cloak he had loaned her was the grinning face of Ginny. Harry saw that her hair was brushed back, and looked so radiant in the night. Before he knew what was happening, her face was inches away from his own, and Harry could smell the scent of her soap and shampoo. Which reminded him…

"I wouldn't touch me if I were you, Gin. I haven't touched a bar of soap since…" Anything else he could say was silenced as Ginny slung an arm over his neck and brought his lips to hers. Harry wrapped his arms around her, and enjoyed the softness of her lips for a few minutes.

After a while, they broke off, and Ginny looked at him and said. "I don't care. I've missed you, Harry." She placed a hand on his cheek and ran a finger down the side of it gently. Harry looked into her eyes, and had to get something out off of his chest now that he had something close to privacy.

"Ginny, I'm sorry for what I…"

"Shh…" She put a finger on one of his lips, and told him, "Its all right." Harry looked down into her eyes, as she rested against his chest. He tried to speak, to beg for forgiveness, but she spoke before he could say anything. "As I told you before, who else do you think would have an inkling of what has happened to you?" She kissed him gently on the lips, and looked up at him. "You made a mistake, that's all. We can work things out, and remember this, Harry: I love you, and nothing you do can change that, as you're the best man I know. A bit thick perhaps," she laughed at this, "but the best so…" Nothing more was said as Harry laughed softly and brought her lips to him again. 

In his mind, he couldn't help but remember what old Dick Longbottom had told him, there was no greater feeling then returning back to base, and there was your wife or girlfriend waiting for you, and nothing felt greater.

Once again, the stories the old soldiers told had been right.

*          *          *

The darkness was starting to break as he slowly came awake. Harry rolled over in his bed and threw his feet to the ground. Despite not going to bed the previous night until one in the morning (after that last kiss, Ginny had laughingly said that he did indeed smelled like a barnyard animal, and needed a bath. Without a second to lose, she had packed him off to wash, get some sleep, and let his imagination run with him with the warning that he was going to need his strength soon), he felt great, and was looking forward to the classes that day. As part of the usual procedure, when he came back from a weekend or more in the woods with the goblins, he was exempt from going to he morning briefings.

It had been for that reason that now, at seven in the morning he could arise, wash, and head down to breakfast with renewed vigor. Going over to the Gryffindor table, he saw the usual: Ron with Hermione, Doc chatting with Ginny, and Neville with Katrina. An ironic applause arose from Doc and the twins when they saw him. Harry felt himself turn red as he sat down and answered a few of the questions given to him by Hermione. She was glad that Harry had gotten off, but had been surprised when she found out exactly how he had won his case. 

"You mean to tell me some tart from Soho testified for you?"

Harry nodded, "Basically. Something wrong with being a friend with such a person?"

Hermione shook here head, "No, but didn't it bother you about her line of work?" 

"No, should it have?"

'Well, I mean…What do you think people would say if they found out?"

"Simple, I was, am, young, and stupid and virile. 'Sides it wasn't as though I was in a relationship at the time."

Hermione looked as though she was going to ask him some more questions, but time forced her to stop. It was fortuitous for Harry as he fully realized he had almost given the game up. 

Morning classes weren't very interesting as none of the teachers, even Snape, wanted to kick off the new-year with an ungodly tempo so things were spent in review. Harry found himself completely the work almost before Hermione, and wound up reading a few pages of a book his uncle had bought him for Christmas (_The King's Rifle: A biography of Colonel Richard Sharpe by his son General Arthur Camoynes, VC, 1884_) before lunch. Which was when his otherwise tranquil day started to go to hell.

Harry had told Ron and Hermione to run ahead as Harry wanted to look something up real fast in the library. The two of them had been surprised, but Harry had smiled at them and told them he didn't want to intrude on them making up for lost time. Despite their protests to the contrary, Harry had waved them away, and went on a long walk around the school. This he had liked as the day was cold, but clear and the snow packed enough he could hear it crunch beneath his shoes.  Harry gave an enthusiastic wave to Hagrid as he made his way to the Great Hall. At the door, he paused to take off his scarf and cloak went in. 

_Soup day_, Harry thought as he smelt the odor of chicken and tomato soups, cheese melts, and other pleasant odors. Looking around, he saw his friends sitting at the table, though it looked like Ron and Hermione were having a bit of a tiff, with Ron waving about a knit yellow hat. Harry smiled when he saw that as he had run into Dobby before the break started, and Dobby had told him that Hermione had been making clothes to free the House Elves. Due to that, the house elves had all but stopped cleaning the place. Dobby was the only one who did so now, but years of working in similar situations with the Malfoys ensured he could such an enormous amount of work without undo trouble. Still, Harry could see Ron was irritated with Hermione. Ginny was reading one of her texts, while Doc was looking through a letter from home. Neville and Katrina were laughing at the antics of Ron and Hermione. Harry smiled as he sat on the side opposite of Ginny next to Neville, and laughed with the rest as Ron finally threw his head up in disgust and gave up arguing with Hermione. Indeed, he was saying the same line over and over again: "Yes, Hermione. Yes, the house elves are slaves and we should free them." 

Doc showed him a cassette player one of his friends had sent him from New Orleans that had been charmed to play various tunes. Harry discovered Doc was something of a Johnny Cash fan, for he was playing _Folsom Prison Blues_. Hermione was interested, and wondering if that broke any rules in regards to magic. Doc and Harry exchanged a glance and grinned: pure Hermione.

Harry laughed one last time and was about to get a plate of soup when a black envelope was placed in front of him as a hand grabbed the back of his neck and pushed his face forwards. "Merry Christmas, Potter." It was the drawl of Draco Malfoy. Before Harry could do anything else, Malfoy laughed and leaned in next to his ear. It was so close Harry could feel the man's warm breath. "She was crying for you at the end, Potter. Or was it moaning? Like the whore she was?"  He laughed one more time as he pushed Harry's face forwards. Harry stopped himself from slamming his face into his empty bowl, and turned around to see Malfoy had walked away from him to the Slytherin table, where the occupants were giving him patronizing smiles. Obviously, they highly approved of what happened.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck: Malfoy was stronger then he thought. Ginny was starring daggers at Malfoy; same with Neville and Doc. Doc asked him, "What's that?" He was pointing at the envelope. Harry was interested as well, for it was fairly big, about thirty centimeters on each side. Whatever it was, it was flat. Harry ran a finger along the surface of the envelope. Felt normal, but considering what he had seen over the years come popping out of envelopes he was leery of what could be there. Still…

Harry drew his pistol, and slid it over to Neville. "Cover the envelope." Ron and Hermione slid their wands out, and did likewise. Hermione asked, "Are you sure that this is a good idea, Harry?" Harry drew his Fairbain, and grinned wryly. Ginny and Katrina were looking at him and the envelope, wondering what was going to happen. "Damn it all, in for a penny, in for a pound…Who said that Hermione?"

"Lord Wellington, to Maitland's Division when he fought at Waterloo."

Harry nodded, and used his blade to slit the top of the envelope. Nothing happened. Harry picked up the envelope, and used the tip of the blade to lift the top of the envelope. Still nothing. Taking a peek inside, Harry saw what looked like photographs. Harry had the envelope the wrong side up, for all he could see was white. _What the hell_… "Looks like photos of some sort." Since nothing bad happened, he set the envelope down and pulled out a stack of what felt like four photographs. Harry flipped them over, and felt his guts turn cold when he saw what was on them.

It showed a brown-haired woman, nude and the photograph had been taken above her for it showed part of a white-haired man with his hands around the neck of the woman. There was no doubt just what the man was doing when Harry took a look at the nether regions of the woman. Harry flipped through the rest of the photographs. All but the last were non-magical, and black and white. All of them showed the woman slowly become strangled, have her throat slit, and the last one, the magical one, and was the worst. The woman was still alive, for Harry saw how her stomach was opened and her mouth was moving the way a fish did when it was out of water.          

The woman was Alice, the friend of his who had saved his ass. It had been little wonder he had had dreams of her, for he read that when a friend was in danger, one usually did so. Judging by the photos, she had paid the price Harry knew she was probably going to pay when she had shown up on the stand.

Harry lowered the photos, and felt them slip out of his hands to litter the table. "Harry, what's wrong?" That was the voice of Hermione. Harry ignored her, as he looked towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy gave him a smirk. Harry wondered…

"Harry, who is she?" Hermione was asking him quietly. Using his peripherals, Harry saw that his friends were looking through the photos. "Harry, did you know this woman?" It was Ginny. "Indeed, she was a friend, one who came and testified on my behalf during my trial."

"Jesus, that's Alice?" Neville sounded shocked. Harry nodded, and then heard a voice that he didn't recognize speak. "Nev, what is the muzzle velocity of a nine millimeter Parabellum round fired from a Browning High Power?"

"350 meters per second."

"As I thought." With that, Harry rose out of his chair and snatched the Browning out Neville's hands, and put the safety on. Keeping his eyes on Malfoy, he removed the magazine, and slid the action back. The round in the chamber popped out and into his hand. Malfoy was still smiling at him. Harry set the pistol, magazine, and round on the table. With a single motion, he drew his dagger from his sleeve and threw it onto the table. It smacked into the oak with a solid _thunk_ and quivered briefly as it stood up. Harry was unarmed, as he had left the .38 and baton back in his trunk upstairs. Well, the wand didn't count, and even that he drew and threw onto the table. 

All of this took only five seconds, at the end of which Harry picked up the last photo. Hermione looked at him, and asked him worriedly, "What are you doing, Harry?" Harry looked over at her, and heard him laugh, and say, "I'm going to shove this," he lifted the picture, "down Malfoy's throat. How's that sound?" With that Harry leapt up and…

Found him being held back as Neville and Ron were holding on to his arms. Doc had jumped out of his chair on to the table and was pushing Harry back. Ginny, and Hermione were grabbing on, saying something that he didn't quite hear. Katrina was looking shocked, and Luna Lovegood was her usual serene self. Harry could see that Malfoy and his goons were having a hearty laugh. Things turned red, and before he knew he had yanked his arms loosed, and shouldered Doc aside. Harry felt things go real slow, as he jumped from the Gryffindor table to the Hufflepuff table, and then the Ravenclaw table. Vaguely he could hear screaming and yells, the voice of Professor McGonagall, but ahead of him Malfoy's laughing was stopping. Harry leapt from the Ravenclaw table to the Slytherin table; Malfoy was drawing his wand, but it was too late…

Harry slammed his foot forward, and heard the sickening crunch as Malfoy's nose broke, blood gushing. With the way he was running, Malfoy fell backwards out of his chair, his wand flying in the air and Harry moved with the momentum forward. Malfoy was gasping for air as Harry grabbed him by his tie and slammed a fist into his left eye. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Crabbe draw his wand, and so he threw his master to him. Both of them went down in a tangle. Whirling, he saw that Goyle had left his wand out on the table and that he was reaching for it. Without a second glance, Harry picked up a fork and slammed it into Goyle's hand. Goyle screamed, and tried to pull it out, but sank to the ground as Harry kneed him in the balls. 

Breathing hard, Harry saw that he still had the rather crumpled photograph of Alice in hand. He saw her take a last breath, and go still; this enraged him more as he grabbed Malfoy by the collar and slammed him against the table. "Here's your goddamn…" Harry stopped as the world went black.  

*          *          *

Harry slowly found himself awakening, his body feeling as though a car had hit him. Blinking his eyes, he saw that he was sitting in a chair in the Headmaster's office, and before him was Dumbledore, the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and Alex. None of them looked too happy at the moment. Harry shook his head, and rose to his feet. "Sit down, Harry. " It was the voice of his uncle, and it was his command voice, meaning he wasn't to be questioned.

Harry did so, and winced as McGonagall asked him, "Just what was the meaning of your actions in the Great Hall today?" Harry looked at her, saw that one of the photographs was on the desk and replied, "I take it you have seen the photographs?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow, and asked, "What does that have to do with anything, Mr. Potter?" Harry didn't answer as Dumbledore held up his hand, and Alex turned to McGonagall, and told her. "Alice was a friend of Harry's. She was the one who defended him in court." McGonagall's face changed, softened, her voice seemed strained as she asked, "The same who…" Alex nodded.

Harry didn't care, as he wanted some answers as to why a good friend of his was dead. "I know, and I'm sure all of you what happened to me…"

"Yes, you landed Malfoy with a broken nose, Goyle with a fork in his hand, and Crabbe badly bruised before you were knocked down by five stunners." 

"So could someone tell me just why…that happened." He pointed to the photograph. Dumbledore sighed, and held it up. Harry watched as it disintegrated into dust. "I'm sorry, Harry, but were treated with a potion that causes it disintegrate over a period of time. Sadly, that was the last one." Dumbledore looked at Harry thoughtfully, then told him the story: of how Alex had told him, anecdotally, of his confrontation with Malfoy. Dumbledore had read reports of the elder Malfoy's sexual habits, and had asked Alice if she was willing to work for the Order. She had readily accepted. It hadn't been his intention for her to testify, but during a routine debriefing she had found out, and had told him that under no circumstances was Harry going to be convicted. She would testify, regardless of the cost, and had.

"How was she compromised? Rather, what happened after she defended me in court?" 

Alex took over, and his words were brief, harsh, and to the point. Based on evidence that had been pieced together when he was away, she had been captured three days after the trial, on New Year's Eve. Malfoy and his associates had interrogated her briefly, and then did what they had done to her. They weren't sure, but it appeared his son Draco, and the younger Crabbe and Goyle had likewise taken part in the 'activities'. Sadly, there wasn't enough evidence to do anything.

"Indeed, Harry, I'm afraid only one person will be punished for the events of today." Dumbledore sounded tired as he said this.

Harry knew what was in store, and looked at the Headmaster straight in the eyes as he asked, "My fate, sir?" 

"Suspension from your duties as Head of Hogwarts Security. Lucius Malfoy visited us via Floo to demand punishment. He was mollified when I told him of your punishment. Now, your badge, Harry."

Part of him knew he had been wronged, but another part stoically shrugged it off. All he knew was that the animosity between him and Malfoy only got worse.

Without taking his eyes off of Dumbledore, he removed the gold badge he had worn since school had started, and set it on the desk.


	31. Chapter XXXI: A Brief Calm

Disclaimer: See Chapter I, you know the drill. One final note: if anyone reading this is also a fan artist, please feel free to draw any character from this work in any way you feel like going at it. Just make sure you drop a review telling where the image can be viewed. Chapter XXXI: A Brief Calm 

The crack of the pistol rang through the air. Harry breathed the sour odor of cordite through his nose and concentrated harder. Gently, he squeezed the trigger on his 9mm pistol, and sent a round 25 meters downrange. It smacked through the target silhouette, at the center of the head. On the target Harry had thumb tacked a picture of Draco Malfoy, and the round slammed through his forehead. In the space of twenty seconds, Harry sent the remaining twelve rounds downrange and into the target. Harry watched the silhouette splinter into pieces. 

Despite his suspension, Harry still spent a lot of time with the Dueling & Muggle Self-Defense Club. Indeed, that, and Ginny, were the only things that were keeping him from doing something stupid…like gutting Malfoy or his goon squad. That was quite the possibility considering the fact that the Headmaster had only taken away his badge; Harry still had all of his weapons. While technically he wasn't supposed to have them on his person anymore, Harry was following what he had been taught in Wales: "Don't even take a shit without being armed." 

Obviously, it was quite the temptation, and Harry found himself almost losing it on a number of occasions. The day after his little skirmish with Malfoy, Harry had been walking to his morning classes when he spotted the disgusting bastard going in the opposite direction. Malfoy had seen him as well, and despite the crunched nose and black eye Harry had given him, he gave Harry a knowing, contemptuous smile. Harry had remembered Malfoy's little comment, and had started going towards him…that was when Ron, Doc, Neville, and the girls had all but dragged him to his next class. The rest of the school didn't know the full details, and could only look on in surprise. Harry, nonetheless, had not been happy to say the least, and wound up having a nice, long chat with his uncle in his office the other night…

*        *        *

"Uncle, why did we let that bastard go? Why did the Headmaster back down…"

"Lad, the Headmaster already explained it to you. The evidence we had went up in ashes, the only witnesses to the event are you and your friends, and Malfoy has denied everything. We weren't even up in the first place to swing something like this and even the quiet way the Headmaster has been going about warning the people of that bastard Riddle's return have been met hard." Alex was referring to the fact there had been a rather quiet, yet nonetheless brutal, struggle within the Ministry as the Headmaster had started testifying to all available media outlets of the return of the Dark Lord. Harry had heard of how just about all stories were censored, and a few of the older ranks in the Auror's were swiftly retired. 

Alex had sighed when he had finished, and continued, "I believe you, the Headmaster believes you, and so does everybody else who has a brain. Sadly, Fudge lacks one and all he is waiting for is the opportunity to throttle everybody over this. They are waiting for one slip, one slip, and the whole lot will come crashing down our ears. We should be lucky that since the elder Malfoy only wanted you removed from the position of Student Head of Hogwarts Security that this op was merely a provocation, one designed to hurt you. It did, but you're still here, and for intents and purposes nothing has really changed."

"What of Alice? What of the fact those sick fucks raped and murdered her?"

"She knew the risks, both when she accepted to be an informant, and when she came to testify on your behalf."

Harry felt something deeply painful and bitter well up in him. In his years, this wasn't the first time he had seen bad things happen to good people, yet after the Triwizard tournament he just couldn't control himself. At the moment it was even worse then before, for when Hagrid had been in Azkaban and Sirius about to be executed, he had had options, means of changing the situation. Not this time though. Harry glared at his uncle and spat back. "So that's it? Alice gets slotted and has her body buried in some shallow grave if not fed to the fucking crows? All we can do is wave the flag and say she died for the bloody Queen and Country? It isn't that what they say? Wait I forgot…we have neither and instead have that prick Fudge and a Headmaster who…"

Alex stopped him, and spoke back icily. "Who has the burden of commanding a secret, dirty, shitty little fucking war that has to be fought, against both an evil fucking enemy and a government with its head so far up its asshole they need to pipe in the ruddy air they breathe! That flag you said I wave? You're right… I do wave the ruddy flag and tell you to trust that Headmaster you're belittling," Alex jabbed a finger at him, "You know why? Because in this sad, vicious fucked up little world good men, good people like you and me and the Headmaster and your mates, send other good people, again like ourselves, in harms way to keep other good people safe in their beds. Even when those good people become stupid people and don't believe there's danger even if there's a goddamn Hungarian Horntail breathing down their necks! 

Throughout his tirade, he hadn't lost control of his breathing. Alex looked at Harry from across his desk, and leaned towards him. Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Alex explained gently, "Every war has casualties, we all lose good friends, people dear to us. All we can do is fight on, and hope to avenge them somewhere down the line."

"Why not now? We already know the players, fuck they sleep under the same roof as we do!"

"We take them down, so what have we accomplished? Destroyed several of the rank and file Death Eaters? Have we truly made a dent in the capacities of the Dark Lord? All we can do is bide our time, and wait for the bastard to slip up."

"And when he does, if ever?"

Alex grinned darkly. "He will, and when he does he is ours."

*        *        *

Harry hadn't totally mollified, but he could see the reasoning behind it. If push had come to shove, Harry knew the Headmaster would have stuck his neck out for him, but things were just too unstable to take the chance. So, Harry had lost a friend, a job, he still was ineligible to play Quidditch to boot as the Headmaster told him he could be given back his badge once things had cooled down. He supposed he was lucky that he wasn't given any detentions, and no House points had been taken as great pains were taken by the faculty to hush things up. Even Snape made no mention of it as he returned to verbally attacking Harry in Potions. Neville was ignored, as were Ron and Hermione as Snape heaped barb upon barb on him. Harry learned to zone to out, and carry on. At least he tried to and was succeeding somewhat…

One thing, however, had solidified in his mind, and that was his fears of Voldemort and his supporters attacking him through those close to him were more then confirmed by what had happened to Alice. True, they probably would have killed her just for being an informant, but Harry knew better. Malfoy the Elder, when not blinded by his own arrogance, was a cunning and sly opponent It was for that reason he found himself dressed in his uniform of green jumper, shirt, and trousers, firing rounds at the range, and waiting for his friends to show up.

Which they did as Harry turned around when he heard the soft crunch of snow behind him. Harry saw that it was Neville, Ron, Doc, Katrina, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. All were dressed comfortably, eschewing robes and school uniforms for jeans, sweatshirts, and the like. Except for Neville and Doc, who both wore uniforms that they had. Harry waved them over, and told them to get comfortable around a small wooden table Harry had set up behind the firing positions. On it was a small array of pistols, predominantly Walther PPKs and five-shot .38 revolvers that Alex had scrounged for them along with a couple of Colt .45s that Doc liked. 

"Right, besides me, Neville and Doc, who here knows how to shoot?" Harry asked as he looked around. Neville had learned to shoot with him in Wales while Doc, in his words, had learned to shoot before he could ride a bicycle. As he suspected no one else did, so he quickly set about teaching them about range safety and the particulars of their weapons. How to load; unload them, the safety, and how to set the zero (the mechanical sights which are set upon the eyesight of the individual shooter) on their weapons. Harry had, and after discussion with his uncle, decided that it was time that those close to him had an ace or two up their sleeves. In this case, he was going to teach the girls, and Ron how to shoot. After all, he himself was a believer after the fight in the Broomsticks of Alex's philosophy, agreed with by Moody and several of the other wizards in the Order, that both muggle and magical weapons were going to be needed in this war. Should an emergency arise, then those five rounds or seven (the Walther or Bond gun as Alex called, had six in the magazine and one in the chamber), could be the difference between life and death.

There was also another, secondary reason. One which Harry told no one about, and which even Alex had to talk about obliquely. Alex had told him of the poem, during the SERE lessons, by Kipling, "Soldier of the Queen". The last stanza stuck in Harry's head.

"If you're wounded and dying on Afghanistan's plains

And the women come forth to cut up your remains

Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains

And go to your God like a soldier"

From the pictures Harry had seen of Alice, as well as stories he had heard from Moody (who had been captured and held for the better part of eight months by the French supporters of Grindewald in 1944) these were serious players, and they played for keeps. Harry sometimes wondered if he had the guts to take his own life, or whether it was more then a bit macabre to think that his love or his friends would wind up in a situation where _they_ would face such a decision…

_Still, a bit of extra firepower never hurts_. Harry concluded.

Harry had, before they had arrived, set up targets at a range of five meters. As soon as they were done zeroing their weapons on the ten-meter targets, Harry had them start first with the shorter-range target through reaction drills. With the weapon placed in a pocket or some other place comfortable. Harry explained that these weapons were a last resort, a fallback weapon to be used when things were at their absolute worst. It was for that reason Harry gave them only one load of ammunition, five rounds for the revolvers (hollow-points, as Harry felt that the extra stopping power of the rounds would be of greater use then standard ball), or seven rounds for the Walthers. Likewise due to that reason, he had them practice shooting at what would normally be ridiculously close ranges, but from what experience he had, it was speed drawn from practice that won the day the day. Not to mention that if they had to use their pistols then the bastards were probably so close they could be engaged hand to hand.

Watching them at work, he saw that Hermione, no doubt because she had been born to the muggle world, was a damn good shot. Taking out his pocket binoculars, Harry saw that her target was filled with two, three-round shot groups from the Walther she had been using. The groups were so close together you could have covered them with a bronze Knut. Harry looked over at Ron's, and he wasn't that bad either. Neville and Katrina were having a good time as Neville showed her how to shoot. Neville was standing behind her, bracing her against him as he had her hold out her weapon, both hands in use. He had his hands around hers, and was telling her through the earplugs to take her time, to breathe deep, hold it, let half out and then fire. Harry watched them, and felt a pang of jealousy as he watched both his mates (Ron and Hermione were having fun as well) have a good time with those they cared for where as he…

Taking a gamble, Harry went over to Ginny, who was holding her weapon with only a single hand and firing at the targets with a lot less success then any of her peers. Harry watched her for a moment, and decided to throw caution to gamble, and play another round of chance once again. Stepping lightly, he got up behind her and remarked, "A crack shot we have here I see." Ginny turned around and glared at him furiously. Harry laughed, and braced her against him, one hand on her hip, and the other steadying the pistol. Leaning to her ear, Harry spoke, "Now breathe long and keep it." Harry felt her breathe deep and hold it in.

"Breath out half and squeeze gently…"

She did so, and fired. The round went through the bulls-eye. Harry smiled, and looked at her for a brief moment, savoring the look of pride and satisfaction she had. Just as quickly, he laughed, told her good work and started playing the game all over again. So that to outsiders, all it would appear was a couple of friends doing something they enjoyed, or something like that anyhow.

Harry coached her on her shooting, as well as that of the others, for the next three hours as they expended countless rounds of ammunition downrange. Doc was having a good time, and cracked to the amusement of all, except perhaps Hermione, that in his part of the country boys and quite a few girls learned how to shoot before they could walk. Or close enough anyhow.

About an hour before sunset, Harry called cease-fire, and had them clean the area of shells and make the place look neater. Then he joined them for about another hour as they cleaned their weapons. When that was done, Doc and Neville got up from the table where they were sitting at to collect the weapons, but Harry raised a hand and stopped them.

"I want all of you to keep the weapons you fired today, and carry them with you, loaded but on safe without a round in the chamber, at all times. All right?"

"Why, Harry? Our wands should be more then enough protection?" Hermione spoke up. While being of muggle parents, and a very good shot, she had as much, perhaps more, confidence in magic then Harry did. 

Harry grinned crookedly, "Call it a hidden edge of sorts. You get disarmed, Hermione, and that disco gun you got there," Harry pointed to the Walther she had used that afternoon, "may be the only thing to keep you safe, Hermione."

"Trust me on it," Harry finished.

All of them did so, putting them in pockets and proceeded to get up to leave. Harry joined them, hoping, praying, that they would never have to use the weapons he had given them, and trained them on. For if that happened, they were really in the shit.


	32. Chapter XXXII: No Illusions

Disclaimer: See Chapter I 

A/N: Revised the legal aspect of each chapter in order to get a somewhat more accurate word count. Next couple of chaps flow quicker, possible end in sight around April. Filled in a few plot holes, too.  

Chapter XXXII: No Illusions 

Harry sat on the bleachers of the Quidditch pitch, watching the team at practice. The end of the Christmas break had arrived to find some changes to the team. Ron still captained, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were still chasers, and the twins were the beaters. However, Doc had taken time off from Quidditch due to his injuries, and also because it appeared he wanted to help partake in the defense of the school since Harry was out of action. Which was where Ginny had come into the picture…

Ginny, it turned out, was one very accomplished flyer, as, in the words of Hermione, she had been stealing brooms out of the boys' broom shed back at the burrow and flying since as soon as Ron was out of the house. Harry had been rather amused to hear that, and went out to see her tryout the week before and liked what he saw. Personal feelings aside, she flew like a hawk: speed, precision and daring. Harry had been quite surprised at some of the tricks she had pulled. What had been even more impressive was the fact she was using a fourth-rate Comet that had been top-of the line when Charlie Weasley captained the team whilst doing so. 

Harry watched as Ginny maneuvered through the air to chase down a speedy Snitch. Ginny took everything with a determined look on her face, nothing fazed her as the cold wind blew in her face, her fiery hair French braided on her head. Harry loved to watch her, and beamed as he watched his lady catch it. Yet, part of him was bothered by the fact that there were a couple of occasions where Ginny could have caught it, yet hadn't been able to. The only reason he could find for that being the case was the quality of the broom she was using.

_Perhaps if she used a Nimbus series or better yet a Firebolt…_ Harry mused as the practice came to an end and the team landed. Ron was having a meeting with the players, including the reserve team. Harry understood as the week after next would be a Quidditch match with Slytherin and Ravenclaw, he would be a bit touchy. Doubtless, the fact Ron had consistently missed more then caught the Quaffle (ensuring that Doc or the girls had to constantly outscore the opposition in order to pull off the wins they had) had something to do with it. Additionally, after Harry's little dustup with Malfoy and the Slytherins, Ron was smart enough to know they were going to go after him and use his recent poor performances as a weapon.

Harry continued with his musings for a minute, and then reached over to his black book bag and pulled out pen and paper. Working quickly he jotted down a few words on the parchment, waved it a bit so the ink could dry, and folded it into his hand. Getting up, he walked towards the team, which was heading to the locker rooms to shower and change. Harry caught up with them, and started chatting away with Ron and the rest of the team. Doc, and Neville came up and soon everyone was talking of various things that happened today, such as the latest barbs Snape threw around. Harry had learned to armor himself in the harsh words of those against him, those including Snape and Malfoy. The dust up in the Great Hall only made things reach a simmering point; Harry had to wonder when things boiled over…and just how bad the bang would be as one could only take slurs, sneers, and mocking faces so long before one removed them at the expense of others. 

As he talked and joked with his friends, Harry slipped a note quietly into Ginny's hand. Harry kept his face straight, as he felt Ginny take the note, and slid it up a sleeve. Ginny threw her head back and laughed, and Harry marveled at how soft, and warm, and…

_Easy there, don't want to let the game up quite yet_, Harry thought to himself as he smoothly broke the contact and went forward so that Ginny was behind him. Their contact had been only for a second, yet long enough for Harry. Tradecraft, the skills of spies, more often then not included a heavy amount of learning how to pickpocket, and the use of nimble fingers. Harry had found he wasn't the most dexterous of men, but time, and a healthy amount of practice (ranging from roll a rubber ball between his fingers, to his 'extracurricular' over the summer) ensure he was somewhat proficient at it. Regardless, it was a useful skill, and one that he was glad for as he waited the night.

*          *          *

Harry watched his breath steam in the cold night air, and practiced breathing slowly. Deep breath, slow exhale…at the moment, he was outside the castle, near the gardens, behind one of the greenhouses. Harry was still in his school uniform as he had had to serve a detention with Snape, and had only been released a few minutes passed ten. It was cutting his rendezvous with Ginny really close, but that just had to be accepted. 

Removing his watch from his pocket, he saw that the time was half past ten. Right when she was to meet him. Harry leaned back into the wall of the greenhouse, wondering if maybe he could spot Ginny. To be truthful with himself, Harry didn't think that was going to happen as ever since he had all but given Ginny his Dad's invisibility cloak, the two of them had been playing a grand game of stalking. Harry was somewhat unnerved to discover that there had been several occasions, despite all the training he had had, that Ginny had been able to sneak up on him. This was why Harry watched the panes of the glass, hoping to see some distortion, and looked at his watch from time to time. His watch had his Foe glass on it, and despite the new moon. Harry's eyes had adjusted to the darkness and could detect motion near surfaces such as glass.  

Sure enough, the face of Ginny appeared on his watch. Harry closed it and turned to the panes of glass. Waiting a few minutes, he saw a bit of movement close to him and lashed out with his right hand. Feeling a bit of silky material in hand, Harry grinned as he latched his fingers into it and pulled it towards him. Sure enough, he could feel a warm body come into contact with his, and when he pulled the material away from what he believed was the head, the coquettish smile of Ginny Weasley was before him. She looked as though she was going to going to say something cheeky, but Harry stifled that by bringing his lips to hers. Ginny didn't protest, and they spent a few moments enjoying each other's company.

When they broke away, they held each other close, and didn't say anything for a few seconds. Ginny broke the silence when she looked up into his eyes and asked, "Much as I enjoyed that, Harry, you do have a reason why I'm here and not asleep after my prat of a brother had us practicing all day?"

Harry looked at her, and laughed lightly, "Because I thought you would like the treat I have in store for you and the team for that matter…"

"Oh, and what would that be Harold James Potter?"

Harry continued to only smile as he held his right hand out to his side, and spoke, "Up"

Ginny squealed in delight as she saw Harry's Firebolt come speeding up from the ground into his hand, and both knew the evening was going to be a fun one.

*          *          *

Harry leaned into the wind, and told Ginny to give it all. They were flying low altitude over the Forbidden Forest, their feet barely brushing the tops of the trees. Harry was behind Ginny, instructing her in the finer points of using the broom, but those was largely redundant as Ginny was enough of a natural flyer that for the most part all he had to do was lean back, and watch the sheer joy and delight on her face. For someone who spent much of his time constantly busy, and nowhere near the sort of man Harry felt she deserved. After all, what sort of man has to see his lady in secrecy, and not very often at that?

Harry rested his chin against her shoulder, and thought of just how much he loved her. The cold wind blew through her hair, and Harry marveled at how even in the black of a new moon, Harry could see it, and how beautiful she looked. With a tap on the shoulder, Harry had Ginny land on the branches of a tall evergreen, and the two cuddled, and talked of everyday things. Ron and Hermione's latest argument (despite being on rather close relations, those two still argued), class assignments, Quidditch, and the latest shenanigans of Fred and George. Harry then opened his heart to her, and talked to her of the war, and of the nightmares he had had. The deaths of Alice, and Sturgis Podmore, had weighed heavily on his mind for the last several months. Harry had slowly been unloading his thoughts and feelings of the subject with Ginny, destroying some of the guilt and depression he felt in the process. Just importantly, more importantly, he wanted to let her know that he trusted her with those secrets one kept hidden away in the recesses of the mind, body, and soul.

Ginny had listened, and Harry had rested his head on her bosom after he had told her of his story. Harry wasn't sure what she would say; after all, the lady in question had once slept with him. Ginny though had told him that Alice had been his friend, the way Hermione and Ron, herself, even were friends. Friends took risks for each other, and, she chided him gently, didn't he realize that after all he had been through? 

Harry had nodded silently, and drew her closer to him. The warmth of her body, the smell of the soap she wore, and the shampoo she used was a comfort to him. Ginny held on to him, and Harry knew somehow that maybe he should cry, let the emotions out, but he had long since abandoned tears. Growing up in a household such as the Dursleys, one learned that sobbing was merely a waste of energy, and that it got you no sympathy. Indeed, it was more a sign of weakness, weakness that bastards that Dudley (when he had been a total piece of shit) and his minions pounced upon like jackals. So, all in all, Harry drew comfort from someone he loved, and knew loved him back. 

That feeling went away though suddenly as Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Something was wrong, he didn't know what, but ever since the summer time and the firefights he had been in, Harry had developed something like a sixth sense of danger. True, perhaps it wasn't totally the result of his muggle training, and the fact was he had been in some very dicey situations over the past five years, but regardless of how he came about it, he had it and it was telling him something was up. Ginny, too knew something was odd for she had felt his back stiffen, and asked him worriedly, "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry had put a finger to her lips to quiet her, and dug into his pockets for the pair of magical binoculars his uncle had issued him. Much like the kind he had bought for Ron, Hermione, and himself during the World Cup last year, these were more powerful, though they lacked the fast-forward and replay options. However, they more then made up for that by increased range, magnification, and low light (darkness, poor visibility) capabilities. Using them, he started a 360-degree scan of his surroundings, looking (praying that he was wrong) for signs, any signs of suspicious activity. Sure enough, as he scanned the eastern shoreline of the lake, where the Forest and the lake connected, he spotted a small ship had risen from the depths and was at the distant shoreline. Harry could make out movement, and when he zoomed in he grimaced. Sure enough, there were people, and when he spotted the old Warsaw bloc automatic weapons amongst them, and the Slavic faces, Harry could knew that these were vampires from Belarus that Voldemort was employing. 

Based on the fact the bastards were setting up what looked liked wooden satellite dishes around their beachhead with multiple metal slivers stuck in at right angles around it, Harry knew the first line of defense for those in Hogwarts was breached. The bloodsuckers had setup equipment to neutralize the sensors and wards surrounding the school. Furthermore, they were emplacing various tracking equipment in which they would be able to spot any countermoves Dumbledore would make. Harry continued watching, and saw that there were two other variables at play: they had eliminated the six-goblin patrol in their sector (which would give them about anywhere from one minute to twenty as the patrols checked in every twenty minutes), and they still had yet to totally emplace their own sensor suite. The goblin patrol, Harry could see, were laying in a row next to the water, their arms stacked at their feet. None of them were moving, or bound, which meant they were dead and beyond use. 

_Maybe_…Harry thought, as he set the binoculars down and drew his Browning. Ginny picked up the binoculars from the branch he had set it on, and pointed it to where he had had it last. Harry, his mind working in overdrive, slide the receiver back on his pistol, and chambered a round. There were unknown number of hostiles, heavily armed with both muggle and magical weaponry, probably well trained to boot. Going by foot would take too long, by air they would be detected, which left them…

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny probably knew what he was going to do, but she doubtless wanted to hear it from him.

"What I'm obligated to do, Gin."

"We have a Firebolt, and your cloak can't we…?"

"No, they would see us coming using those damn scanners down there, and clip us like clay pigeons. Our only chance to get any warning to Dumbledore is…" Harry spent a couple of seconds outlining his plan. Since he lacked comms to the school (his Auror's communications set had been taken away from him as part of his suspension), it was a very risky one that Harry knew would require a bloody miracle to pull off without being costly to him, but if it bought some time for Bladvak and Dumbledore to secure the school then so be it.  

Ginny though, didn't think so… "Harry, no, you don't have to do this! You're not obligated to do a damn thing, to risk your life for them ever since those ungrateful bastards took away your badge, your dignity and pride and let Malfoy have his way…" In the darkness Harry could see Ginny's eyes glisten as she ranted and raved. Ginny was a strong-willed woman, a fiery independent one who had nerves of steel, and Harry knew that that she cared enough about him, loved him, that him rolling the dice with Fate and her husband Death was quite a bit for her.

He placed a finger gently on her lips and shushed her. Taking her into his arms, he held her gently for a few heartbeats, and looked down into her brown eyes. Harry could tell she was worried, and felt himself wondering if what she was talking about made sense, that perhaps it would be better if…

No, you gave your word to defending this place, and if you're the only casualty then that is just savvy…

"Ginny, you know I have to do this…"

"No you don't, you fool! We can…"

"Ginny," Harry murmured quietly, and laid his eyes on her. Ginny by now, had tears going down her cheeks, her chest rising and falling in a ragged rhythm as she was sobbing.  

It pained Harry's heart like none other to have to promise her something that those who faced death had promised before, and a promise which Harry knew he would be hard-pressed to keep… 

 "I promise you this though…" Harry paused, and gently kissed her on the forehead. She held on to him for a second, and then broke away rather violently. Harry held her firm, and looked into her eyes.

"You stubborn bastard, what?!" Ginny was still somewhat scared for him, perhaps a shade hysterical, but Harry could see the woman he loved shining in her., and slowly felt cracks develop in his resolve. When one has found heaven, how hard is it to turn your back on it, even defending whilst it? 

"I'll come back, whatever the cost. I promise." With that he kissed her, a black feeling within him that this could be the very last time he would see Ginny ever again.

*          *          *

Harry kept his eyes, down, and tried to stop his teeth from chattering. Less then five meters away, he could hear the guttural Slavic tones of the vampires. Pressing his body against the cold, slick ground Hary inched his way forward, and hoped that this insane idea of his would work…

Ginny was hovering, on the Firebolt and under the cloak, just off shore and at sea level. She had proven her skills as a flier under hostile conditions in spades when she had taken him on a wild ride _through_ the forest to insert Harry close to the enemy's area. Harry's plan was to inch in close enough from the outside range of the sensors to cause a major distraction, and while Harry was busy keeping the vampires occupied, Ginny would make a high-speed end run across the lake and to the castle. Once it looked like she could make it, Harry would then withdraw to the woods or the lake, whichever looked more opportune. There was one problem though: the whole success of the endeavor depended on speed, and shock, and Harry knew that he would have seconds to get in and out. Once he lost the momentum it was all over. 

Harry looked up, and watched a vampire take a seat on a log near him. The bastard took out a cigarette, lit it, and started smoking. Harry felt himself grow more hopeful as the dumb shit before him smoking either meant the bastards were overconfident, or they really weren't that well-trained. From what he had seen, Harry was betting on the former, as it would have taken a damn good crew to take down some of Bladvak's goblins. 

_Game time_, Harry thought to himself. The mud was cold and slick between his fingers as he slid the wand out of his pocket, and aimed it towards the general direction of the camp. The vampire in front of him ground out his cigarette after another one yelled at him. Odds were it was probably a corporal or sergeant telling him not to break light discipline. Harry knew that the moment he cast the spell, the clock was going to be ticking…

Don't think, just act. Let your training take over… Alex's words on his mind. "Pyria Petroleumus." A dull ball of gray light shot out from his wand, and dissipated over encampment, the smell of gasoline heavy in the air. The spell was similar to that that Harry used to lubricate locks, only this time the lubricant was very flammable oil. Harry rolled away, and lay still, breathing very slowly and trying not to stare at the vampire. The vampire in front of him had raised his weapon, an AKM and was scanning the area in front of him. Harry could hear the ominous sounds of rounds being chambered, weapons cocked, and safeties being flicked off. Blood-suckers were pointing their weapons in his direction as they knew someone was watching, just didn't know where exactly. They had yet to open fire, meaning that they still were banking on surprise, and avoiding detection by the security elements. Not to mention wasting ammunition. 

_Now isn't that nice_, Harry thought as he closed an eye, and pointed his wand towards the center of the encampment. Slowly, he raised himself to one knee and yelled out, "Pyreggina!" A fireball flew straight from his wand, and detonated where two vampires were standing near a small tent. Harry saw a flash, and felt a heat wave go over him as everything within five-foot radius of the center of the camp went up in flames. The two vampires were gone, no corpses remaining as the heat from the fireball coupled with the oil spell he had cast caused a raging inferno to occur. Horrendous screams from the various vampires rang through the air, along with the sounds of their ammunition cooking off in their web gear. The rancid smell of burnt hair times a billion over was heavy on his nostrils, threatening to make him puke. Harry shook his head as he drew his pistol, pulled the receiver back, and flicked off the safety. The blood-sucker in front of him had turned when the fireball had detonated, and had his back to him.

Harry shot him, squeezing the trigger twice and sending two rounds downrange at such velocity that when it impacted, Harry saw a fountain of liquid explode from the vampire's head. Brain shot, a kill. No one noticed, for pretty much everyone else was busy trying to fight the fires. Harry heard an explosion, and felt something whiz by his ear. Chaos and confusion was the order of the day, but it was obvious someone was sorting out this gangfuck right quick, and that meant now would be the most opportune, quite possibly only, time to make a break. Harry didn't want to draw anymore attention to himself, so he took cover behind the log, and crawled towards the water's edge. Using the vegetation near there, he could make a clean…

Harry stopped, as he heard something that he recognized in the vampire tongue, a word that he hoped he wouldn't hear. That what he was doing might be for nothing. It was the word for flying, and Harry heard the sounds of AKMs firing. Harry rose, and saw sure enough a small, but growing number of heavily armed people pointing at the sky and shooting wildly. Maybe the invisibility cloak had slipped; maybe their sensors were still working despite the recreation of Dante's inferno he had created, maybe…

All thought stopped as he rose, and sprinted to the nearest one. His left hand held his wand, wildly throwing stunners left and right. No time for complex operations, and too close to use some of the more nasty stuff he knew. The pistol in his right hand was for the close in work. Harry saw a vampire go down from a stunner, landing on his ass. The vampire went down to his back shortly thereafter, assisted by three nine millimeter hollow-point rounds. Harry saw movement far to his right, and shot a detonation curse in the general direction. Still moving, he headed to another that was raising his weapon in the air. Before he knew it, he was there up next to him, close enough that when he fired he felt the spray of blood and viscera against him. Yet that didn't bother him, for inwardly, he was praying…

_Please let them come for me, and not her. Not her_…

Harry felt something fly past his ear, and heard the sounds of gunfire. They were bringing him under fire, and despite the fact he was in the open, the rounds were going around him. Who knew why, but Harry didn't stick around long to find out as the hoary old line was that it was the round not aimed at you that wound up getting you at the end. It was fortunate that the fire, while raging in areas, had avoided some as Harry dove behind a group of boxes filled with God knew what. From there, Harry crawled behind them, and lay on his belly. Taking a quick peek, he saw that most of the vampires were busy putting out fires, and trying to save some of their fellows' lives. Fire was a deadly mistress to vampires…

Harry spotted a group of four armed blood-suckers moving towards where he had dove, firing from the hip, trying to flank him. Their backs were to him, and Harry took the opportunity presented. Jumping to his feet, Harry ran forward, firing. Two of the four went down with rounds in their heads, Harry having long mastered the art of putting bullets where he wanted them to go. One of the remaining vampires was close enough to him that he didn't bother trying to shoot Harry, merely swinging his rifle around to butt-stroke him. Harry didn't accept that at all, stepped forward, put the muzzle against the forehead of the vampire, and put a bullet in his skull without a second thought. Harry swung as soon as he pulled the trigger towards the final vampire, aimed, and fired…

This time there was only a click, meaning he was out of ammunition. During the fight, Harry had lost count of the rounds he was firing, and at the close quarters he was at there was no time to do a stoppage drill as the other was almost as close as the one he had just put down. Pointing his wand, he fired a stunner, and saw the man fly head over heels backwards. Raising his right hand, he used his thumb to release the magazine, and was using his wand hand to put in a fresh magazine when he felt something slam into the joint between his arm and shoulder. Grunting, he dropped his pistol as he felt his whole limb go numb as he fell to a knee. This was fortunate, for another blow came close enough to his head that he felt the air breeze by him. Harry looked up, and saw that a vampire, one who had been fighting a fire earlier and had a fireman's axe in hand, had stopped building a firebreak and had turned his attentions to him. The blow had come from the axe handle after the head had been removed.

Harry should have taken the time to count himself lucky, as the average vampire had the strength to punch a hole right through him. Instead, still on the ground, he slid out his baton from his belt and flicked his wrist. Twenty four inches of telescoping steel with a lead core slid out, and blocked a blow from the axe handle as it rained down towards him. Harry's left arm was braced by his right hand, but it still felt numb with shock as the force of the blow reverberated up and down his limbs. The vampire grunted, and pulled back for another blow, but Harry wasn't going to have none of it. Even before the assorted scum of Liverpool, Manchester, Aberdeen, and the East End had shown him the tricks; Harry had to learn to fight as a kid hard, dirty, and viciously to stand an even chance. This was why he quickly brought his baton back, and rapped it hard enough to break bone on the man's knee. 

There was a sick crunch, and the vampire went down with a cry. Harry rose to his feet, and smashed his foot down on the vampire's face. It felt like he was kicking a football, and Harry brought it back again. Another crunch, and this time the vampire stopped moving as Harry had kicked his face. Literally, for here the blow had driven a sliver of bone through the brain like a hot blade through butter, as vampires had brains that were as vulnerable as that of men. That and a certain gland below the heart were two areas he had been taught in Defense against the Dark Arts to go for. In the words of Doc Detidedeux, 'killing is our business, and business is good.'

Harry was breathing hard, and looked up. The blood suckers had forgotten about Ginny, and were coming after him, a lot of them. Numbers didn't faze him, what scared him was the fact was that all were carrying axe handles, batons, and bayonets. This meant somebody wanted him alive, and that was a possibility he didn't want to face. He turned, and was about to run when he saw more of the bastards were behind him. Left flank was a wall of fire, right flank were more vampires. The only option: forward. Harry scowled, and roared, his blood pumping, not feeling the aches and pains, the cold of his wet clothes in the damp weather, or the way the sweat ran down his ears along the legs of his glasses, or through his eyebrows to sting his eyes. A war cry, and a wild screaming charge towards the lake, for there was escape. 

A few vampires were surprised, and went down as Harry smashed one down in the face, and brought it down against the skull of another before they moved in. Harry dropped his baton  and wand, falling to his knees as an axe handle smashed between his shoulder blades. Stars flew in his eyes as something, Harry thought it must have been a rubber-coated baton, smacked him the back of his head. Hands grabbed his arms, and yanked them back behind him. A boot slammed him down into the ground, and weight in the form of a knee pressed him into the ground. Both arms were pulled in front of him as four guys held him down, for what he didn't know as his face was smeared into the mud. Harry looked up, and saw the hostile, staring at him, and knew that if he survived it would be a bloody miracle.

_Where the fuck are Bladvak's lads? Surely they've_…

That train of thought came to an end for he noticed that the majority of the vampires were armed with blunt weaponry, there were a few standing near him armed with AKMs standing near him. It took him only a second to see one vampire, a tall, clean cut fellow with black watching the skies, and raise a bolt-action rifle. Harry recognized it as he lay there as Mosin-Nagant, an old school sniper rifle. Before, when it was just AKs being fired, there was a chance of Ginny getting hit, but not as bad as now. Harry's guts felt cold, his mind screaming no for he knew what he loved and held dear could go…

Before he knew it, there was a row of stunned vampires surrounding him, he was on his feet, the Fairbairn he carried in his fingertips. Harry needed only a second to gauge distance as he threw it, and watched the vampire scream as the blade slashed across his face. It was then he doubled over, and vomited, totally drained. It had been the first time he had cast an offensive spell, and it had taken its toll on him. The spell also must have been weak, for he groaned and fell on his face as something slammed into his kidneys. Blood-suckers, were lighting into him, giving him a good kicking. Harry curled into a ball, and protected his specs. God knew where his weaponry was now as the blows rained down. The beating stopped as they once again had him on the ground, this bringing his arms back as another guy sat down on his back, another drilling the muzzle of an AKM into his skull. Harry wasn't going to do anything now, and took the time to look at the sky, and towards the sky. 

Illumination flares, starburst shell, parachute flares were in the air, turning night into day, the security measures of the school being put into use. Harry saw Ginny fly the last few yards, and disappear over the castle wall. A smile creased his face, and looked up. The harsh, pasty Slavic face of the vampire with the rifle looked down at him with hate-filled eyes. Harry could sympathize if he had lost friends, but now all he could do was go against everything he had been taught of being held a prisoner. Defiance settled into his bones, and must have shown in his eyes as the vampire spoke something in Russian, and brought his foot back. Harry didn't close his eyes, only tilted his head slightly as he saw the Crycllic characters on the sole of the man's boot come at him like a wall, and then only darkness.


	33. Chapter XXXIII: The Inquisitor

Disclaimer: See Chapter I 

Warning: Very dark with torture, blood, and gore. The usual viewer discretion warning that no one ever listens to.

**Chapter XXXIII: The Inquisitor**

Harry felt his eyelids open, and close. Darkness was all he could see, and for a brief moment he feared he was blind. It took him a moment of struggling before he calmed down, and took stock of his situation. He couldn't see, but his other senses could work, and the sense of touch was his most important asset at the moment. On his cheeks, and ears, he could feel cloth and rough cloth at that. This meant that in keeping with standard procedure in most armies they had blindfolded and hooded him, more then likely with a tourniquet and sandbag. He tried moving his arms, and legs, and found that their movement was restricted. Judging by the plastic feel, this meant that they had used the one shot plastic hand cuffs that had become vogue during the Gulf War to deal with captured Iraqis on him. 

The floor he was on was of concrete, which meant that they had moved him to a permanent facility, but since he was still in the wet, muddy clothes he had on before there was a good chance that he hadn't been held that long. This meant they had to exfiltrate out of Hogwarts pretty damn fast, and their mission was obviously a fiasco. On the other hand, this meant that the odds of him being rescued quickly had just gotten dimmer, and they were still going to need a great deal of time before they could plan, and execute a rescue operation. This in turn meant that he was in the shit big time…

_Don't think of that shit, Harry_. He thought to himself. For a moment, he had been seized with a fit of depression as he gave it a deal of thought as to just what was going to happen to him, what was probably going to happen to him. Mentally, he shook aside the thoughts of torture, and took the time to think that if they were holding him alive, they were either going to interrogate him, or use him as a bargaining chip.

From what he had gleaned from the intelligence at his disposal, the vampires were a free-wheeling, mercenary faction that tended to play all sides against the middle, for their own good. After all, vampires were in big demand by the more intelligent practitioners of the Dark Arts due to their skill and competence with muggle weaponry. The only reason they supported Voldemort was the fact he had promised similar to the giants: no more magical persecution and hunting, and unlimited feeding on the muggle population. Harry didn't know much about the leadership of the various vampires covens, but he did know that there was a central commission that was in charge of all vampires world wide, and that in the last war they had supported Voldemort before pulling support when he had been defeated that first time around Halloween. 

Harry's musing came to an end as he heard footsteps, a lot of them approaching. Pretty sure that he was the one they were coming for, if that was what they were doing in the first, he started curling up into a ball for the kicking that was going to follow. Harry brought his knees up to his chest, listened as the steps echoed off of the concrete floor. The jingle of keys on a ring, followed by the sound of a lock turning somewhere in front of him, and then the steps approaching, the sound almost deafening in his ears. Harry tightened himself up, and tried to clear his mind, not knowing if they were going to start probing his mind.

The kicking started, and Harry had to admit these guys were good. In short order, he was out of breath and moaning as a couple of pairs of booted feet slammed into his chest, abdomen, and torso. Another landed between his shoulder blades, close to his head, and Harry once again saw stars. No command was given as to when it would stop, but it did, and Harry felt something, a cudgel of some sort, brought under his head and brought back, choking him as a boot pressed down on his spine. Two pairs of hands grabbed his arms, and raised him so that his feet were dragging on the ground. The cudgel was taken away, the boot removed, and Harry managed to breathe once again. 

Again silence as they dragged him to who knew where. Harry felt a couple of turns, and moaned as he felt his feet hurt from the dragging. Soon, he felt a cold wind on his person, and cobblestones beneath him. They dragged him farther, as Harry tried to think, to strategize, but found the shock and pain from the beating had dulled his senses. All he wanted to do was make it through the next few seconds, and nothing else mattered. 

The people on his sides stopped, and had him kneel on the ground. Now Harry felt a change as this was a soft soil at his knees, and Harry sensed there was a hole of some sort in front of him. Which could only mean one thing and that wasn't good.

His wrists still hand-cuffed behind him, someone removed his hood, and Harry winced as his eyes received daylight. Rather, it wasn't real daylight, but light of dawn approaching coupled with a series of floodlights pointed right at his face. Harry blinked his eyes rapidly, and took in his surroundings: castle walls, some snow on the uppermost parapets, the gray sunlight as it shone through clouds and over mountains…And a line of hard-faced men in olive uniforms and rifles staring at him impassively, with a very shallow grave dug in the soil before him, neat piles of cobblestones to the sides to cover it when the time came. There two others, older looking men who were watching him closely, only without weapons.

One of the two, one in a uniform like an officer's raised his hand. The line raised their weapons, and rounds were placed in the chambers. Harry knew then and there that there wasn't going to be a prisoner swap, that he was a dead man, which he wasn't going to see the face of his…

_Don't even think of her, do you want this to happen to her as well!_ Harry thought as he stared at the line before him, not knowing if they were going to examine his thoughts at will. Defiance and hatred arose in him, and he hawked and spat a glob of phlegm towards them. Straightening his back, he was determined that if he were to die, then he was going to ensure that they were going remember that he died a man, with staring at death without fright. 

Safeties were clicked off, and Harry continued to stare. The other unarmed man, one with a harsh, lean face and lantern jaw who looked as though he were in his early forties, stared at him before looking over to the younger looking blood sucker, and nodded. The officer smiled over at Harry, and Harry started praying, something which he only did when something like this happened. After all, God was a very busy man, and one saved praying for times like this… 

_Dear Lord, my Father in heaven, forgive me my sins, and welcome a wretch like me into your Kingdom_…

The arm went down, and Harry saw the rifles flash, and wondered if it was going to hurt too badly. A second passed, nothing, followed by another second and still nothing. The line dropped their rifles to their sides, and marched off with the officer leading them, still silently. Harry saw the remaining vampire move towards him as he heard footsteps behind him. The vampire stopped before the hole, and crouched down. The face was hard-cut, one that could be mistaken for lacking intelligence as its Germanic features were as noticeable as the eyes were visible with a burning blue fire. For some reason, Harry had the strange feeling he had seen the man before.

His eyes bored into Harry's, and he shook his head slowly. "Such arrogant defiance, a pity it can't be used to more useful ends…" The eyes flickered to something behind him, and everything went black.

*          *          *

Blinding light and laughing as Harry's eyes swam. He shivered and realized he was soaking wet. Something slammed into his face, and his glasses flew to who knew where. Harry almost laughed at the impossibility of the gesture, for his glasses had survived so much and only now broke. More laughter and Harry tried squinting his eyes, to get focus. A metal bucket was near his feet, which explained the wetness. The large dent in it explained what he had been smacked with.

Somebody grabbed his hair, and pulled back. Harry cried out as he felt the roots of his hair being yanked out. The light source became visible, as it was a very strong wattage white light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Harry winced as the light struck his eyes, and noticed that somebody was just behind the light, holding his hair. A harsh word, Russian, and his head were pushed forward, and Harry found himself face to face with a rat-faced vampire, wearing the uniform Harry had seen before. 

It was then Harry started taking in his surroundings. Dark stone walls, a wooden chair with armrests to which he was strapped to, and the bastard at a very cheap, dilapidated looking desk with writing materials before him.   
  
The questions began, the interrogator speaking English with a heavy Russian accent at rapid speed.

Name

Position

Age

What are the defenses of Hogwarts?

Who are your officers?

Harry didn't answer, only stared at the ground, playing the gray man, the broken one who didn't know anything. Part of him was telling him that he was a dead man, that if he was going to play the game to the end, it was going to be _him_ playing the game, not the game playing him. Then there was the other part, with a voice much like Alex's, telling him to hold tight, to stay alive for he and the Order, every force available would be used to rescue him or anybody else in his situation….At least, that was what he had been lead to believe.

The vampire sighed, and made a motion with his hand. Harry felt something smack into his stomach, and double him over in his chair. That same something smacked the base of his skull, this time with only enough force to snap his head back. His eyes started blurring with tears, as the blows had a sting burning sensation to them. Focusing his eyes, he saw that Rat-face was smiling, and asked him the same questions, in rapid order again. Harry blinked, and shook his head. 

This time Harry saw what the weapon was, as it was jabbed quickly into his left side. A wooden nightstick, with a black rubber coating to reduce too much damage on the subject and damage to the stick. Standard issue for secret police interrogation rooms the world over, bargain prices now that the South Africans were out of that industry. 

More questions, and this time the man didn't even give him a chance to answer. Whoever was working on him lit into Harry with a fury. A kick knocked his chair to the side, and Harry saw stars as his head bounced off the floor. Kicks to the stomach, chest, and groin. The pain was washing into him in wave after wave, and more was to come. Harry saw brown, hobnailed boots, and knew that he probably had some internal damage. 

The baton started to be brought down his back, neck, and shoulders. Harry tucked his face into his chest, and hoped he could spare his face some damage. Body shaking, Harry started moaning and crying alternately as the pain came to him. Doc had once shared with him an American Marine Corps saying that pain was weakness leaving the body; Harry knew now that it was bullshit, it was only the destruction of the body brick by bloody brick of flesh.

Whoever was lighting into him stopped, and Harry saw out of his vision several pairs of boots, different boots, step into the light and grab either side of him. A door clanged, and he was dragged, chair and all down a hallway, cobblestones and concrete, dimly lit with overhead lights, almost penny budget movie like in similarity to old photos of Gestapo interrogation centers. Only thing was, those shitty movies were based on truth….

Another room, another desk, another bastard in the Olive green uniform. This one was porcine, and seemed to have an incessant grin on his face as he asked Harry the same questions as had been asked before. Harry had slowly figured out the tactics being used against him of abuse, constant interrogation, and no time to establish friendly rappaport with the opposition. With physical methods being employed, there wasn't a need for them to be nice to him when time would break him down or kill him, either of which was acceptable to them.

The only difference was that Porky here had his own methods of physical persuasion, and Porky did his dirty work himself. Methods that included using his arms as an ashtray for the rollups he smoked, and using him as a slapping dummy. Being slapped was bad news, especially if it involved kidskin gloves packed with chunks of lead. Harry felt his teeth rock with the vibrations of the impacts, and the blood flow out of his nose and lips as they were split open. More blood flew as vamp took an inkwell, and slammed it into an eye. The skin around his left eye swell, and Harry knew it was going to close shut for a bit. 

This time the inkwell was slammed into his throat, and Harry coughed and spluttered. Part of him feared that Porky would kill him; another part hoped for it. Harry tried to banish that thought, but instead only found blackness as Porky, ever grinning, booted him into the face.

*          *          *

The darkness changed to light with a flash, and Harry sprang up, only to be brought backwards into a chair by a pair of strong hands. His hands were still strapped into the armrests, and the only thing that had changed was that he could see out of one, his right, eye. The crowd had gotten bigger as bespectled fellow with a syringe stepped away from him. Harry squinted, and saw that the old man from the courtyard, and a blonde woman with a French braid were staring at him. The old man spoke in Russian to Specs, and Specs left, leaving Harry, the woman, the man, and two other men. All except for the man and including the woman were still in Russian uniform.

Harry was breathing hard, his head pounding. There was no telling what they had shot into him, but Harry guessed it was probably caffeine to jolt him awake. Without his glasses, Harry could make out only general details, but even he could see that all that was going on was a mind game of people as they stared at him, and he stared back. Harry noticed that the desk this time had no writing utensils, only small instruments of metal. To the side of the room a grill like structure glowed with fire while next to it was an assembly of wires, cables, and two car batteries. Harry didn't need to be Stephen Hawking to figure out what was in store for him.

Old man stepped forward, a smile that reminded Harry of Snape on his worst of days. Trying not to, but failing, he shuddered. 

The man stepped closer to him, and Harry saw that there was something in his hands. With one hand, he took Harry's head, and moved it so that he faced up. The other hand put the something on Harry's face. It was his glasses, and Harry shuddered more for the man's hands were cold, like ice.

Blinking his eyes, Harry got a good look at the man this time, and it struck him then as to whom it was. Harry had read through the old intelligence files from the last war. This vampire's folder had been four inches thick, and covered a period from the early 1900s, through the World Wars and Grindewald's time, to the present. He was a man who had made his mark on both the muggle spy world, and the wizard world. He had trained the agents of the Soviet Union that had recruited traitors such as Burgess, McLean, Philby, Cairncross, and Blunt before he had returned to his native Germany, a vampire. In World War II, he had been a shadowy power figure of the Gestapo, a brilliant detective to this day wanted by the Israelis and others. His part had been to liaison between Grindewald and the Nazis, and when the war was over he had disappeared like a ghost. 

In the 1970s, he had returned again, his name showing up as Voldemort's spymaster, the man who had conducted the operations of terror. Unlike the Death Eaters whose actions were mindless, senseless acts of violence, his were the cold, calculated acts that nearly brought the Ministry of Magic to his knees. On his orders old Minister Appscott, his deputy, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, the Auror's Division, and three Hit Wizard captains had been killed in a brazen daylight attack by a pack of Romanian werewolves in Diagon Alley that initiated the start of the first war. It had been through his machination the Night of the Vespers had occurred, in which fifty various ranking wizards and witches who opposed Voldemort were snuffed out in the space of a single evening. Through him had been through his dealings that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Rockwood were placed in high-level positions throughout the Ministry, and it had been through him that Wormtail had been turned, and ultimately used to orphan Harry, and temporarily defeat Voldemort.

Since then he had vanished, with only a few shadowy clues that Harry had never been fully informed of making up his trail. From what little he had gleaned from Alex, there had been a period when it looked as though he was going to defect, and every little rotten apple in the Ministry would be revealed. That hadn't happened, he had disappeared, and two very good Aurors were dead or close enough to it. Judging by the fact he was still alive as a vampire could be, it was obvious that Voldemort had found a use for him, and there was no telling what schemes and plots were being cooked up within his mind.

Harry stared at him, grimaced, and greeted him as civilly as could be expected. "Good day, Professor. Or should I call you your name of Joachim Mueller?" Mueller had earned the sobriquet of Professor for his work with the Bolsheviks and Nazis, how an entire generation of muggle spymasters and Dark wizards had learned the tricks of the trade, of the Great Game, through his very capable hands. 

Mueller leaned his head back and laughed, a full laugh that sounded as though he had been at the schnapps too long. He looked over at Harry, and smiled. "Professor, Joachim, whatever you care to. Do you mind if I call you Harry?"

"Yes"

"In that case, _Harry_, too bad." The tone was still jocular, but Harry was nobody's fool. Business was to be taken care of, and now. Mueller turned his head towards the woman and spoke to her in English. "Do you wish to be in charge of the interrogation, Elizabeth?" 

She shook her head, and Mueller rose. He looked down at Harry, and smiled. Again, Harry shuddered. 

"Well, Mister Potter, you are doubtless aware of how valuable of a source of information you are. Information I and my associates are quite interested in, so if you will happily cooperate…"

"And if I don't?"

"As part of you job, yes? In that case, you will not appreciate what I will be forced to do. So I strongly suggest that you…"

"Fuck off, blood-sucker."

Mueller's eyes flared, and he jerked his head. Elizabeth moved forward, and casually slapped Harry. Harry's head whip-lashed, and his eyes blurred. The woman had hit, and hit very hard indeed. He screamed then, as she leaned over, and punched him in the groin. The pain was blinding, and he gasped for air as he tried to curl up into the fetal position. 

He took a look up, and saw that Mueller was staring down at him, his face expressionless. Mueller turned to Elizabeth, and spoke to her, this time in Russian. Both of them left, and a burly figure with a Slavic face and a foul cigarette entered the room via the door to the side. Harry hadn't seen much out of the door, only another bright light in a dim hallway. The Slav went to him, smiled, and removed his glasses. Slav then punched him in the jaw. Harry flew backwards, his head bouncing off the floor. Trying to curl up, to get away from the pain, Harry knew it was going to be a long day, and numbly wondered just how long he was going to last.

What followed next was a blur of images and pain. All sense of time vanished. The Slav and the two guards lit into him with clubs and boots. Harry remembered throwing up, one of the guards grabbing him by the hair and shoving his face into the vomit. A hood of some sort was put over his head, and tightened. He could barely breathe, and the smell of his vomit was driving him up the wall. 

One of them put his knee to Harry's back as he lay down on the ground, his arms pulled behind him painfully. A click, and Harry heard the sound of cloth tearing, and within short notice he felt the cold stone of the floor against his skin. Someone yanked off his shoes, and Harry breathed a little easier, as the wet wool and leather of his socks and shoes had been irritating. 

That didn't last too long as they soon pulled him to his feet, and in bad English had him stand on his fingertips and toes, spread-eagle, against the wall. Harry had heard of this trick, and he figured out real fast that they were using a combination of interrogation techniques, and torture against him. Whatever was going to happen, they obviously wanted him broken down. Harry's guess was that they wanted to mine him of information, and then, as a bonus, use him broken down and pitiful as a propaganda piece when outright warfare broke out. Of course, for all he knew, this secret war could just as easily see him vanish without a trace, the way Alex had made the vampires vanish…

After a few seconds, Harry felt himself start to hurt, the pressure on his extremities starting to be unbearable. He relaxed, and discovered that to be a mistake when he felt the clubs start smacking into him again. Back, stomach, kidneys, chest, thighs, the only thing they didn't work over was his head. The hands grabbed him, slammed him into a chair, a different one that left his back exposed, and put the restraints back on him. Harry breathed a little easier as the hood was removed from him, and heard the Slav start talking to him in rapid-fire Russian. It didn't take him too long to figure out he was being asked questions, and that since he wasn't answering, the Slav wasn't too happy.

Harry squinted his eyes, and saw Slave bring up something from the grill. When he recognized the poker in his hands, Harry cringed. Through his blurry vision, he saw the Slav smile, and laugh. Without a moment of hesitation, he casually took the poker, and slid it down Harry's back. Harry screamed as his skin was cooked with the red-hot metal. More pain, more laughter as again and again a poker was drawn across his torso. It stopped for a minute, and Harry shuddered with each breath he took. Tears streaked down his face, the pain most intense. 

He looked up, and saw the Slav holding up shiny, metallic, and sharp instruments. They looked like surgical tool, and Harry moaned. One of the men behind him grabbed him in a headlock, and the Slave moved forward. Harry screamed again and again as the front of his chest was sliced, the nails on his fingers and toes removed. Vaguely, through the pain, Harry felt trickles of blood go down his body, and pool on the stone floor. 

The Slav said something else, and this time Harry, half-crazed with pain, looked the interrogator in the eyes, and yelled at the top of his lungs the Russian word for boy-fucker, the only insult he knew of. Bad move, as the Russian dropped the instruments, and punched him in the stomach. Harry coughed, and hung his head, wondering if that was the worst that was going to be done to him. 

The Slave grabbed him by the hair, and dragged him over the desk. He barked some commands to his minions. One loosened his bonds, and held his hands on the table. The other one kicked his legs apart and made a move to keep them spread….

_Ah fuck_, Harry thought to himself tiredly. The Russian yelled something at about a billion decibels in his ear. Harry made out the words, 'up' and 'asshole'. Judging by the way he waving around the nightstick he carried it was obvious what his intentions were. While he hadn't been told that being sodomized with a nightstick was a possibility, it was obvious that was going to happen and all he could do was…

Watch as a blur surrounded the vampire, and bright crimson blood splatter everywhere was his throat was opened. Harry slid off of the desk as the guards to either side let go of him. Harry shook his head, and blinked away a little of the blood. The lady with Mueller, Elizabeth, was standing before him, the body of the other vampire on the ground. Both guards had overcome their shock, and were staring down at him, malevolence barely concealed. Elizabeth knelt next to him, and smiled darkly as she placed a fingernail on his flesh, and ran it down over his torso, and lower.

Harry shivered, and she smiled. "Do you know who I am, Harry?" She asked unconcernedly. Harry shook his head, and continued to watch the woman, afraid of just what she was going to do as she had a very sensitive portion of his anatomy between to very long and very pointed fingernails. The woman smiled, Harry shuddered, and then screamed as she pressed her nails into flesh deep enough to draw blood. Her laughter was maniacal and haunting as the shock and pains of earlier knocked him unconscious.

*          *          *

Harry's eyes opened, and looked around him for a dinosaur. Besides the caffeine, they injected him with a stimulant of some sort (cocaine probably) and then some LSD. This had happened after the bitch vampire had left her mark on his cock and balls, and the interrogation had gotten really rough. Beatings, burning, branding, lashings, every trick that could damage the body and break the mind had been used against him. Multiple interrogations, sleep deprivation, every trick short of magic was being used against him as the endless questions were being asked of Hogwarts's defenses, and just how Dumbledore knew so much of their activities. No food, two cups of water that were taken away as soon as he emptied them, and the cell he was in was six feet long, six feet wide, and seven feet high. No bathroom facilities were provided, and Harry could see his breath as he breathed. 

He was naked, dirty, and living in his own filth, yet he still clung to life. Every thought he had was filled with hope, and he dared to occasionally think of Ginny, as the only things he had left to live for were her, and his other friends. Ron and Hermione, Neville and Katrina, Luna, Doc, Alex, Linda, the men of Dick Longbottom's platoon who were soldiering away in the Balkans. They wouldn't want him to give up on life, and based on the fact they hadn't used any magic on him at all, there just might be a chance at getting out of this mess.

The door clanged open, and three burly guards rushed in. Harry curled up, and covered his face as they mercilessly rained blow upon blow upon his body. After who knew how long he had been in their custody (they had succeeded earlier on of making him lose track of time), Harry had learned a little bit on how to prevent the blows from doing too much damage. It was over within a moment as they fastened the sandbag hood over his face, flex-cuffed his hands, and dragged him out of his cell. Harry could feel his feet being dragged on the cobblestone floor, the stones slick with grime and moisture in slurry like mix. Was he underground? Probably considering how he was being interrogated as there had been no letup, and the blood suckers were still vulnerable to daylight. More so now perhaps as he hadn't seen any magic being used, almost as though it were harmful to use magic…

Harry's thoughts on this ended as they stopped, opened a door, and continued dragging. Another stop as they cut the flex-cuff, sat him in a chair, and the click of handcuffs as his hands were placed in them. Harry couldn't see beyond the black cloth, but he was able to make out light as a very high watt light bulb was shined in his face. Footsteps were around him, and Harry heard the voice of Mueller, with his cool, chiseled Germanic accent which reminded him of the good German from an old Mick Caine football movie. 

"Here is the goods as agreed upon. Satisfied?"

"Our deal was for him to be undamaged, vampire." Harry's ears perked up, as it was the drawl of an enemy with whom he had a very big score to settle. Lucius Malfoy.

"No, that wasn't part of the deal, and as I recall I was told that when I accepted this contract I was given carte blanche authority as to just how far my measures would go. There are other operations in motion of which Mister Potter can make a very valuable contribution to…"

"To what? Your search for the traitor in our mist, infiltrating their ridiculous Order, that damn…"

"Quiet Malfoy, have you never heard of secrecy?" Mueller sounded utterly emotionless, and that was chilling to Harry. 

Lucius Malfoy, though, wasn't in the least. His sneer was very obvious in his voice as he replied, "Do you honestly believe, vampire, that he is going to live long enough to tell others of who would be able to make use of that information? No, Mister Potter, here is done for. However, now that you mention it…" A slight pause, and for some reason Harry had the feeling Malfoy was smiling. 

"Remove the hood, I have to confirm that this is the genuine article, and not some muggle you had doctored…"

"What, didn't your son not tell you of the fact I lost twenty-eight good men in a very obvious skirmish outside of the school?"

"My son is rather indisposed at the moment. Now, the hood if you will."

Harry felt the cloth pull away, and blinked his eyes as they came into contact with the harsh light. Squinting, he felt some pointed under his chin push it up, and then brush against his head. Another minute of blinking found himself staring into the face of Lucius Malfoy, wearing a muggle business suit of all things and smiling down at him with an expression of cruel delight. "Good day, Mister Potter. Perhaps you remember me from the occasion several years ago when you stole a very valuable house-elf from me." Malfoy brought the cane back, and smacked it across Harry's face. Going with it, Harry didn't feel much, though after a second he could feel something drip, and knew that skin had been broken somewhere and he was bleeding.

Mueller laughed, and asked in a sarcastic tone, "And you said I was to turn him in undamaged."

Unabashed, Malfoy asked, "Or how about that occasion during the summer in that nice den of vice you frequented?" He didn't strike, only jab, which straightened Harry's spine out from the pain to the back of his shoulders. Expressionless, Harry looked right in the eyes of Malfoy, and saw that he was enjoying himself. Mueller and Elizabeth were in the background with the guards, watching him and Malfoy the way people watched a very boring movie. 

Stopping the circling he had been doing, Lucius looked down into Harry, and leered, "Did my son tell you your woman was moaning and crying for you when she died? That she died with…" 

"Your cock in her? Your son told me that, but you know what Alice told me back in the summer?" Harry leered back, his face skull-like, and continued, "For a man who enjoyed was so damn masculine as to treat women like shit, you have a sorry cock shorter then my little finger. Shit," He hawked, spat at Malfoy's feet causing him to jump back. By now he didn't care what happened to him, as before he went Harry was determined to at least embarrass someone shit like Malfoy. "_My _goddamn dick is longer at half mast and freezing then yours is at full tilt. Say, your wife say she pregnant?" Malfoy looked dumbfounded at the sudden turn of the question, but Harry's leer only got wider. "Your beloved, dutiful wife apparently likes it up the ass, with a refreshing treat that she loves nothing better then a man or a baker's fucking dozen to shoot a few loads into her cunny. And all for a knut or two at…"

"CRUCIO!!!" Malfoy had turned purple, and in a single, smooth motion drawn his wand out of his cane, and threw the curse at him. Harry felt a pain he had never felt before, worse then all the beatings and torture he had just gone through, and screamed. Trying to tell himself the pain was all in his mind, that it was possible for him to block it out, he tried to concentrate on a white wall, to throw up a shield charm, but he was failing. Mostly, he was reveling in the curse as he started to cry out in pain, for he hoped that somebody would be able to see the signature of such a malevolent force of magic being used. If someone noticed, then it would be possible for them to find him, and ultimately rescue him. Of course, it could just as easily result in his death, and at the rate things had been going, that was just as acceptable. 

"STOP!" This was the harsh command of Mueller, and to Harry's amazement the pain stopped. Harry hazarded a look at Mueller, and in his blurry vision was able to make out the salient fact that Mueller was none too pleased with Malfoy. "Lucius, I believe I've already told you just why we don't use magic." Malfoy, still purple, glared over at Mueller, and sneered, "Honestly, no one will come for him. Do you fully realize just how difficult it was for me to travel over here?" 

"Yes, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, are you finished examining the goods?" 

Malfoy nodded, Mueller made a motion with his hand, and the hood was placed over Harry's head again. Within a short while, he was dragged back to his cell, with his thoughts, pain, and the slight kernel of despair that was forming within him. For the sight of Malfoy had driven it home to him that he was going to end up like most of the men who had fought and died in the Cold War: dead in a shallow grave, with no one to know what ever became of him.

*          *          *

The traffic was loud enough to hear through the oak walls of the small pub. It was a Welsh pub, and Celtic music played in the background. The song was a haunting melody, strangely enchanting and beautiful. Outside, the streets of London were bustling due to the proximity to Piccadilly Circus, but on the side-streets it was largely pedestrian traffic. Inside the pub, near the back room, a teenage waitress working after school carried a platter of beers in glass mugs, working the rounds. Making her way to the rear of the pub, she spotted the man in the shadows, a cigarillo glowing in the gloom. The man had ordered only a cup of tea, nothing more. He had been there all evening, alone and with his back to the wall. While he had been friendly enough when she had gotten him his tea, he had made no move to flirt with her or do any of the other things most customers did, which was a pity since he was handsome in a mysterious way. 

"You want anything, now?" She had taken a detour from her servings, and stopped in front of his booth. He looked like Pierce Brosnan with his dark hair, his features what an American Black Irish. His eyes were of two different colors, and on the table was his tin case of cigarillos, a Zippo lighter painted flat black. Next to him was a small attaché case, a cane, and a bowler. 

The man smiled up at her, and shook his head. "Thank you, but no." 

"Want any company, no, thank you again. Waiting for an old colleague to drop something off for me. Should be in about…Now." 

Just then the waitress heard the door open, and turned to see a silver-haired gentleman with an air of supreme arrogance enter the pub. She looked down  as she felt a pound note slip into her hand. The man was smiling, "That's for the service, which my friend won't be partaking of. Why don't you take a break, have a drink on me?" It was a twenty pound note, and the woman decided that they were up to no good, but she did need the money…

She left, and the silver-haired man sat down at the booth. Black Irish nodded, and set his case on the table. "Lets not waste time. I have what you want, do you have what I want?" Silver nodded, and removed a thick roll of parchment from the inside of his trench coat. Sliding it over to Irish, he asked, "I take it you were able to track my magical signature?" 

"Yes, and the spell you cast. I take it that was necessary?"

"You said a spell, just not what type." Silver was smiling contemptously. Irish grinned back, and slid over the case as his other hand grabbed the parchment. Unrolling it, his eyes scanned the material before rolling it up, and putting it back into his pocket. Silver opened the case, and slammed it shut after a moment.  Getting up to leave, he stopped to look down at Irish. "I never expected your kind to something like this." Irish dragged on his smoke, and blew the smoke towards Silver. "First time for everything, and besides, the muggles have a saying which you should heed."

 "Which is?"

"There is nothing more dangerous, then a man with nothing left to lose." Silver snorted, turned, and was walking to the door, when Irish called out, "Malfoy!" Lucius Malfoy turned, and shot a look of supreme loathing towards Irish. Irish smiled, and raised his cup of tea, "Give Draco my regards in about forty-eight hours, as that is how long it will take to wear off. Unless you do something rash, in which the effects are rather more…permanent." 

Malfoy scowled, exited, and slammed the door as he the left. Irish's dark green swiveled, and he continued to smoke his cigarillo, at peace with all that he had done, and what was going to follow.


	34. Chapter XXXIV: Hidden Truths

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter I

A/N: To clear up a review question, yes, I am American, third generation British (grandparents on father-side were from the old country) descendant. Nothing much else to say other then three to four more chapters to go, and that I'm debating just how much I'll dovetail with OOTP. One reviewer said he (or she) didn't want to read OOTP: well, if so, read another work as I want to dovetail and stray as little from canon as possible.

**Chapter XXXIV: Hidden Truths**

_ A long hallway, with a dark door at the end. Flash to the Great Hall in Hogwarts, Uncle Alex and Sirius standing in front of him. Sirius white as a ghost, and Alex giving him his leering grin, his teeth and shirt stained with blood, the empty eye socket gazing at him._

Cold water brought him to consciousness, the dream or nightmare gone. He found himself strapped him into a chair, another bucket of ice cold water dumped all over him to wake him up. Harry didn't mind the cold; it removed the shit and dirt and filth that accumulated on him from his cell. It also helped bring some sanity out of his doped up mind, and sent the little green dinosaurs running away. What he did mind was the fact he was feeling every bit of the interrogative techniques that had been used on him since Malfoy had left.

Obviously, it was only a matter of time before Voldemort would have him in his control, and it was just as obvious Mueller was working against the clock, to gain information. Every method possible was being used to break him, and drain him of information. Harry had broken, and spilled information, a lot of it…

Only thing was, just about everything he said was carefully doctored bullshit. Even as he screamed under the blade, he kept his thoughts clear of Ginny, his friends and the truth.

How many goblin regiments were at Hogwarts? Don't know, a lot of goblins though.

Armament? Enough weaponry to take on a small threat, not sure of anything bigger then a random attack on the village. Small arms, a lot like an infantry battalion.

What sort of wards was in place around the school? Not sure how many or what type, but Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were constantly busy. Types include…

What was the source of information from the Inner Circle? Principally eavesdropping on the Slytherin rooms of Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Flint, and Malfoy. Secondary source information came from sources of information close to the respective Death Eaters, Alice being an example.

Harry wasn't sure about some of the information he was putting forth might accidentally set them upon the correct track, but he had to give them something that got them thinking, to give them enough smoke that the mirror was obscured. Smoke and mirrors, mind games, whatever you wanted to call it, for even as he was a pawn in the game of power that was the war, Harry knew he could do damage, and did so. His priorities were to ensure that those he held close to him, and those vital to the war stayed safe, and he was willing to pay the price of their safety in blood, tears, sweat, and anger.

"I see you are still with us Mister Potter."

"Indeed, been a pleasure."

Mueller laughed, and circled around him. Elizabeth Long-Nails as Harry termed her was still with him. The guards had switched out, and Harry saw that these boys were armed. AKMs as usual, thing was, this was the first time they had allowed armed personnel in his presence. Which meant either that they were going no longer worried about him making a break for it, or…

"Harry, I've some bad news for you. My Lord and master demand that I turn you over to him, our discussions coming to a close."

"Is that why you've got Dumb and Dumber over there with automatic weapons?"

"Indeed, it is a pity. You would have made a hell of an intelligence agent were it not for the unfortunate fact that we are on opposite sides. Unless you're wiling to come work for me?" Mueller bared his teeth, and showed his two fangs.

"Sorry, Professor, I like the daylight."

Mueller laughed again, and asked him, "Tell me, any last requests for a meal, a bath, a woman perhaps?" Harry squinted and saw the chain Ginny had given him on the desk, along with his wand, knife, baton, identity discs, Browning and glasses. Mueller saw his eyes moves, and went to the chain. He picked it up and asked Harry, "Who is your lady? I believe it was asked, yet I cannot remember the answer?"

"Her name is Grace Dyes, and she was a child hood friend whom I fell in love with over the summer." A lie with its foundation of truth, the only way one could pull off a lie. Mueller looked at the pendant, with the H and G intertwined, and spoke to Harry, "I'm genuinely sorry, young man, that you won't be seeing her again."

"I hope you can say the same to my uncle."

"Flash Alex? The young pup that was the most ruthless and competent of the Aurors?"

Harry nodded, and replied, "The one whose love you killed." Mueller put down the pendant, picked up the glasses, and put them on Harry's head. Pointing toward Elizabeth, Mueller commanded him, "Take a look at her, a close look."

Harry looked, his mind churning. As always, there was that feeling he had seen her before, yet couldn't place her. Something about her looks…Elizabeth was a also the same name as…His heart stopped for a moment, and he looked at her face, and thought of the picture of Liz Falkirk, the one Alex kept in his office. The face looked the same, the eyes were harsher, the hair shorter, but there was a strong resemblance between her and the woman in the photograph…

_How, Alex said this blood-sucking bastard had her raped and butchered?_

"Not sure, tell me the history of you two."

Mueller raised an eyebrow, "A command? From someone in your position?"

"I care not for a last meal, but a last bit of knowledge, of information, so indulge me if you please."

Mueller laughed, "As I said earlier, you would have made a most formidable player in the world of intelligence. So what is it you wish to know?"

"How can that," Harry pointed with his chin to Elizabeth, "be the woman my uncle so dearly loved? She's dead." Elizabeth entered the conversation for the first time, as she laughed, and looked over at Harry, "After all of this time?" Harry scowled, and nodded. She continued, "Dead? I suppose the woman that was once so…naïve is dead."

"How did she die?"

"She died when her family was largely killed by those we fought, and then watched as some of her closet friends were abandoned to death by those whom I thought was a friend." She looked over at Harry, and smiled. "What do you think of Dumbledore, Harry?"

Harry paused, a bit confused as to the question, and answered the line he had heard before, as truth is told he didn't know what to think. "He's a great man doing a shitty job."

Liz laughed, "Alex tell you that line?"

The hair on the back of his neck curled; he nodded. Liz explained, "We heard that, the same line he was given when we lost people to the Dark bastards. When we sent good people to certain death in order to save the lives of Death Eater scum who happened to be willing to sell their secrets to his cause. He would rather," her lips were curled by now, "willing lose the lives of good people, many people, in order to ensure the survival of one pathetic spy who wasn't worth the fingernail of one of those who lost it." She gazed into Harry's eyes, and continued, "You want to know the stories? He sent Sirius Black's woman to reconnoiter the activities of the Death Eater's abroad in Moscow. Dumbledore received word immediately from one of his spies before she went that she was compromised."

A silence, and then, "He knew, and didn't care for her life, only that the information he was receiving from a source he wouldn't name no longer dry up, which meant that she would have to continue as though it were business as usual.. When that poor silly bitch was captured, he even went so far as to launch a rescue operation that failed, thanks to the fact he ensured that they went into an area crawling with alert Death Eaters, ones that knew he wouldn't seem to abandon those he led."

Harry felt a lead feeling in his stomach, hoping that this was false, yet he was nobody's fool…Alex had told him the war they fought was dirty, and from what he had gathered, the last war had been very, very dirty indeed. Had Dumbledore ever had to…

The thoughts were interrupted as he forced himself to pay attention to Liz's tirade, of her viewpoint of the last war. It had been a war of double-cross and brutality. From what it sounded like, Liz had been like Hermione, wanting to ensure that the good won, and starting in her sixth year had been recruited with Alex to help fight it, earning a quick reputation as one of the foremost hunters of Death Eaters within the Ministry. Nevertheless, it pained and traumatized her as again and again they received information that the bastards were planning something, and had to hold back until it was either too late, or close enough to it, before reacting. This ensured that a lot of good people in the Ministry and working for Dumbledore perished. All to often, their side had been just as bad in their dealings, using torture, blackmail, extortion, and assassination nearly as much as their enemies. Worse, there were the civilian casualties, casualties that Dumbledore allowed to happen. Liz had lost her family too, during the year immediately before she and Alex had graduated. Her mother, father, two sisters, and baby brother had been shopping in Diagon Alley when Bloody Tuesday had occurred.

In the space of ten minutes, a force of Death Eaters lead by Igor Dolovhich had apparated into the Alley, and killed twenty people, predominately muggles and children who happened to be shopping with their magically inclined children. Alex hadn't been with her that day, off on a mission tracking down a potential suspect when it had occurred. A stunner had hit Liz, but the Killing Curse, except for one of the girls, had largely exterminated her family. She had been cursed with a new type that resulted in her internal organs slowly dissolving from the inside out; Liz had been later found by a force from the ministry holding her youngest sister Bethany in her arms, crying like a baby.

Liz had been deadpan throughout the whole conversation, staring at the floor. Mueller had taken a chair, and merely listened. Liz looked over at Harry, and asked, "Do you know that within forty-eight hours of the attack Dumbledore received information as to just who was responsible? Names, descriptions, the whole lot?" Harry shook his head. Liz went on, "We could have taken the whole lot of them, rounded them neat as tripe and exterminated them all. Before, I would have been horrified, yet all I wanted was revenge, vengeance on a dark wing that I knew would come. Instead, they were individually picked up over a long space of time, to try to ensure that the precious information continued to flow, their families not made to suffer as I.…" Harry interrupted, "Wouldn't have it made sense to keep it open to ensure that when the Dark Lord did do something that was truly vital it would have been known? Didn't he also ensure that some warning was given forth?" Liz glared at him, "Yes, for both counts, but there were occasions when he didn't have to feed the beast as Alex called it. It took away my family, the only family Alex had as well besides Lilly, and then…" Liz smiled, "Joachim came, old Liz died, and was reborn into something that had long desired escape."

Mueller glanced up, and explained his story to Harry. He had originally found out about Liz through a coven of vampires that he had destroyed on behalf of the Dark Lord, a coven that had been bribed by Liz and Dumbledore to stay out the fighting. Mueller had been intrigued, and had studied her over a long series of time. Yes, she was loyal to the cause of Dumbledore as she had admired him when she was a student of Hogwarts, and had been one of his ablest paladins in the long war. She had the intelligence, cunning, and skill at spy craft and intrigue that had won several of the more important victories Dumbledore had pulled off. Yet, Mueller had found out the death of her family in 1979 had caused her to be shaken emotionally, and the loss of her good friend Abigail Forrester (engaged to Sirius Black at the time) along with fourteen other wizards and witches in Russia had caused a small, but growing sense of disillusionment towards Dumbledore. This had conflicted sharply with her strong feelings of admiration and respect she had towards him, leaving her vulnerable.

This was why Mueller had approached her through intermediaries concerning a case she was working on…

"Which was?" Harry asked.

"The Ring of Five, Harry. It seems Alex, Moody, and herself amongst others were taken with the idea that there were five high-level agents of mine working for the Dark Lord within the Ministry, and I approached her with information." Harry knew of the case, that four agents (Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle in the Minister's staff, and Rookwood in the Department of Mysteries) had been found, three of whom had gotten off claiming to be under the Imperius by Rookwood, and that Black had been labeled the Fifth Man by the Ministry after the deaths of Harry's parents, and Peter Pettigrew. The original target in the highly secret, in-house investigation commissioned by Dumbledore, had been Minister Fudge. Alex, when he had briefed Harry on the case, said that the Fifth Man had been Peter Pettigrew, and not Pettigrew despite a lot of circumstantial evidence to the contrary. Harry hadn't been too shocked to hear that Fudge had been considered a serious suspect; heavens knew his handling of the current crisis was bad enough for people to think outright sabotage.

Mueller continued with his story. He had offered to Liz his defection, the ability to shut down the entire Death Eater organization within Britain, Ireland, and Eastern Europe, and most importantly, the chance to prove Sirius's innocence as Sirius had been a good friend of Liz's. They had had a face to face to prove his bonafides, and Liz had gone directly to her supervisor, Frank Longbottom…On the same night Mueller had suggested to young Crouch that he and his friends might find out information concerning Voldemort's location from the Longbottoms. Needless to say, Mueller had gone straight there, and had bitten and turned Liz there on the spot, leaving the Longbottoms to their fate whilst some muggle woman had been imbibed with Polyjuice to look like Liz. She had joined unwillingly, but now, after more then a decade in the shadows watching the wizard world…

Liz laughed as Mueller got to the end, "I'm fortunate as now my existence has some meaning…"

Harry hawked and spat at her, "How? By working for the same people who killed your friends and family? By sending the man who would do damn near anything for you to a living hell?"

Liz continued to laugh, "A means to an end. I've killed purebloods before, and will do so again soon enough. As for the rest, everything dies, unless you take this course of action, and live forever." With that, she barred her fangs at Harry. Harry looked at her contemptuously, and raised his middle and fore fingers on his right hand.

Mueller laughed, looked at a pocket watch he carried in the velvet vest he wore, and said to Harry, "You will shortly be transferred over to the loving care of a certain Death Eater, and doubtless my master has much planned for you. Before you go, I will leave you with this fact: Black was innocent, Pettigrew worked for free for the Dark Lord, and even when he disappeared, he served a purpose. You see, I had identified the most likely Ministry official to be there when he killed those muggles, and the man had sympathies towards my master's side. Not to mention the fact he was a total idiot whose later actions would do much damage to the opposition. I would leave careful evidence that could link him to our cause, yet nothing definite along with evidence that there could be others who were the Fifth Man. Which would lead…"

"To a constant hunt, with good people caught in the middle, and either a paralysis of operations or…" Harry paused, his voice soft as the full magnitude of the machinations of the past decade and a half hit him. Mueller seemed pleased, the way a teacher was when an apt pupil reached the end of a most difficult lesson, and ordered, "Continue, Harry. Or?"

"Or the relaxation of standards, as the hunts would find naught but smoke and mirrors, nothing definitive. This would ensure that later on small-level agents would be un-detectable and high level agents to become harder then normal to detect. The way MI5 was paralyzed for years searching for a Fifth Man, and the atmosphere caused British Intelligence to become a miasma of bad operations due to the constant suspicions. Likewise with the Americans, as their search for a traitor in their midst allowed them to be vulnerable to that bastard they found this year." Harry referred to two spy cases he had studied under Alex's tutelage, both of which had been masterful coups (or so it appeared) during the recent Cold War.

Mueller nodded, "Yes, at the time I wasn't sure just why my master decided to visit you and your parents. For that matter, I don't know precisely just what happened or how he returned. Regardless, I decided to have some additional security for as my master found out the unexpected can and will happen, and so I did what was done."

Harry smiled, the pain from the interrogations of before dulled by now. Gazing into the eyes of the vampire before him, he asked coolly, "So, tell me, since I'm about to die shortly, just what do you plan on doing?" He had to gamble, for if by some bloody miracle he made it out alive then this information would be crucial. Judging by the way Mueller was acting around him, he obviously had respect for Harry. Since the probabilities of Harry making out on his feet were nil, odds were Mueller was going to say something juicy. Harry, of course, was going to have to take the long shot bet: himself surviving.

Mueller stroked his chin, and replied, "I don't know for sure, something large scale though. Quite possibly open hostilities as he has ordered me to increase the tempo of all operations against Fudge's ministry." He paused, and looked over at Harry. "It is quite possible that based on the support he has from the other covens, coupled with the neutrality of the giants, he may make his power play any time soon. Only, he trusts no one and so I have to work in the dark." Mueller opened his watch, and looked into it. Something was up, as hadn't he said earlier that Harry was shortly to be transferred?

Harry watched him, and looked over towards the door. It was steel, flat black, your standard dungeon issue…

The door opened, and Harry looked to see a figure standing there. Mueller looked over, scowled, and asked something in Russian. There was silence, and then the figure flew from the doorway to knock Harry to the ground. Harry lay still, and examined the knife blade shoved into the base of the vampire's neck, obviously he was dead. Everything happened real quickly after that.

Movement in the light through the doorway, followed by gunshots. Liz bared her fangs, growled, and leapt forward…multiple gunshot wounds threw her to the ground. The other two guards went down shortly afterward, blood spraying everywhere. Blood and cordite stench permeated the air, along with the smell of shit as the bowels of the dead voided. Harry lay still, and looked around him. Mueller sat against a wall, thrown there by multiple gunshot wounds. Liz lay on his lap, a grotesque parody of life and love.

Footsteps, and the air in front of Harry and the two vampires shimmered to reveal two men, one short, stocky, and Asiatic. The other was white, with dark hair and an eye that swirled and moved hither and fro. Both had on standard British Army camouflage, OD watch caps, and CAR-15s in hand. Alex had arrived in the nick of time yet again.

Both of them had had on invisibility cloaks, and shed them as soon as it looked like the hostiles were down. Stepping on the corpses, Alex first went over to Harry, and asked, "Harry?"

Harry wanted to answer, but didn't as Mueller had long shown himself the master of mind games. Was this a Machiavellian ploy on Mueller's turf to break him further, to see if all that he had 'spilled' was genuine information?

The hesitation must have been visible on his face, as Alex knelt and asked gently, "You don't think it's really me?" Harry nodded, and Alex leaned over and started whispering in his ear.

"Before I left, I had the Headmaster allow me to remove certain aspects of my memory and place them in a Pensieve, as I know what the odds of me being captured and held are. You aware of what I'm talking about?" Harry nodded, as during his SERE training he had been told of a little-known Ministry procedure called Mind-Scan. It was a complicated procedure occasionally used by Auror's and others to have certain aspects of their memory removed and held in a Pensieve. This ensured that critical, need-to-know information could be removed from high-ranking personnel and decreases the subsequent damage in the event one of them fell into enemy hands during situations where they had to be exposed to grievous danger.

Alex continued, "I kept one piece of information, and that was that I found you and your girlfriend, one nobody knows about, in the Astronomy Tower." Harry had to think for a moment, as there were a lot of people who had gone through Hogwarts and knew about it. Could be a lucky guess… __

_Fuck it, I haven't got a choice_…

Harry grinned a little, and said, "Well, it took you more then seventy-two hours, dickhead."

Alex didn't laugh, and asked him, his tone all business, "How bad are you?"

"Couple of cracked ribs for sure, some internal damage, no limbs broken but the fuckers shot me up with some shit that makes me see dinosaurs. Feet and balls are messed up to."

"What happened there?"

"Feet got taken out with a ball-peen hammer, and the balls got a couple of deep gouges from your lady love over there." Harry coughed, and was surprised to see that the blood that had started to appear earlier was now in larger quantities with his phlegm. Before he had thought it was from his teeth or nose. Now, coupled with the kickings he had received earlier, it was obvious just how fucked up he was. Alex turned and gave a cold glare at Mueller and Liz. Mueller shrugged, whilst Liz merely stared back. Alex pulled a small vial of a purple liquid from his belt kit, unstopped it, and put it to Harry's lips. "Drink, Harry." Harry did so, and almost spat it out. It felt like molten lava, burning its way down, leaving behind a taste of very sour grapes. Gasping as he had forced it down, Harry felt a strange tingling throughout his body, as though his body had fallen asleep the way a person's foot did occasionally.

Alex explained to him, "It's called Jupiter's Blood, and it's an ancient potion which can 'stopper death'. It will temporarily fix you up, and then all your wounds will hurt real bad, worse then before… " Harry started giggling, and said to Alex, "That's what Snape says in Potions. The stopper bit."

"Snape probably got that from Professor Wormwood, the Potions master back in the day." With that Alex turned towards the two vampires. Getting up, walked towards them and knelt down near Liz. "Why?" He asked simply.

Liz curled her lips, "You poor fool, do you still think that old man is as wonderful as they say he is?"

Alex shrugged, "The best we've got, and better then any master I had in the muggle world. Besides, I never you thought you were much for power. Nor your best friend Linda for that matter…"

Liz laughed harshly, and spat blood from her fangs at him. "I don't have power, all I have, all I need is the night, and Joachim…"

"And the love I have, had, for you? What of that." Alex asked quietly.

Liz smiled cruelly, "How naïve you are. Did you honestly think that those fools in the ministry were going to let you continue to be an Auror after the war was over? That they would let me and you and Linda and other mudbloods do anything worthwhile once we weren't needed? We would be as bad as that werewolf your sister was friends with…"

"You didn't answer my question. What of the love I had for you?"

She continued to smile, "You betrayed me when you stood silent as though who we went to school with, those who whom we shared many a laugh and tear with were sent to die by that stupid old man. When you stood silent as my family, your family after your mother and father died, was killed, and we had to 'investigate' when we knew whom was responsible. You were more then willing to do as low as I've done when it was for you and precious Ministry, but you wouldn't touch some pureblood with the blood of others on their hands."

Liz stared into his eyes, "You let Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery get away when they were arrested because they claimed they were innocent. You let Karkarov go because he was going to confess in the trials after the war. You tell me if all the sacrifice, all the blood we shed and spilled in that miserable war changed anything, if it would have been worth it for a future together. Do you think it is?"

Harry still hadn't really figured out why Alex's lady had betrayed their side and gone over to the one that supported killing her. Then again, Voldemort was like him, like Lilly, like Alex and Liz. Even after all the years one still had to really figure out why the Cambridge Spy ring had gone the way it had, why people turned traitor, to go the way they did. Alex obviously hadn't, he just shook his head, and stared her in the eyes. "Good-bye Lizzie." With that, he fired a three round burst that dissolved her face and head in a flurry of blood and detritus. Mueller winced, and looked over Alex. Alex looked over at him, and said, "I kill you, you win as you've always wanted a release from eternal life, to be with your first wife. I don't kill you, you still win as you go forth to fight another day. Can't capture you, so…" Mueller shrugged, and answered, "I win regardless." Alex nodded, "So you do." With that, he emptied the rest of his magazine into Mueller's face, and ended the career of Voldemort's spymaster and master of intrigue.

Billy Fish, in the meanwhile, had gone over, dressed Harry's wounds, and gave him the rags Harry had left of his school uniform. It was dry, yet caked with mud and blood and shit, but still clothing nonetheless. Over it, he was given an Army woolen jumper, a pair of combat boots to replace his school shoes, and a Goretex smock.

Alex turned towards them, his business concluded, and said to Harry, "Let's go home." His voice sounded drained, fatigued, yet beneath that exterior was one of determination, of drive to go on. Billy Fish slung one of Harry's arms over his shoulders, and half dragged him out of the door. Harry went along, and kept quiet as he knew his uncle wanted to be silent. It wasn't everyday that one found out your love of your life was still alive, and a traitor to boot.

They passed through a long, dim hallway. Up a staircase, and outside into the courtyard of a ruined castle, dusk still settling. From there they ran pass a guardhouse with two dead vampires who looked as though they had just come on guard duty, and a row of vehicles with slashed tires. The place looked like the castle Harry had seen in a newer Robin Hood movie, only darker, more sinister and shabby. Past the gate, they took him into a forest where six other Ghurkas, dressed like Alex and Billy Fish awaited in ambush formation. Harry had been briefed that Fish was a powerful figure within the mountains of Nepal. Obviously, it was enough to get him a squad of Ghurka mercenaries, British-trained and easily the best damn infantry in the world. Probably why the Queen always had a number of the smiling, genial killers in her service…

Alex stopped them, and conferred with Fish and his men in rapid-fire Ghurkali. Harry hoped they could hurry up and get the hell out of there, as with the night upon them who knew how many vampires would start their hunt for Alex and his merry band of killers, as surely they hadn't killed all of the vampires?

"Harry"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Let's go."

Falling into a column, with Fish leading point, they moved out at a fast clip through the forest. Harry found himself numbing, the pain a mere glimpse on the periphery as he moved as fast as the rest of the squad. Part of it was the drugs; mostly, it was stubborn pride, the kind he had learned through blood, tears, sweat and anger. It had kept him alive in captivity, and it would bring him back to the only home he knew.

The darkness was total, brought about by a new moon and the dense forest they were in. Harry's night vision took some time to adjust, but not before he was worried about getting separated from the rest of the column. Fortunately, he was in the center of the column, with Alex keeping a close eye on him. As they were moving fast, noise discipline was lax, and Alex filled him in on just what was going on.

Turns out they were in Latvia, near the Gulf of Riga with the vampire castle an old keep that had been used by the Teutonic Knights in the Middle Ages. It also turned out Mueller had put in place a series of charms that prevented it from being placed on a map, and ensured nothing magical transportation-wise could be used without really deadly pyrotechniques, at least for a fifty mile radius. Which was why they were moving as fast as possible through the only cover available towards a place Alex had set up a Portkey that would take them back home. Alex had opted over concealment in place of speed, as the vampires had a ring around the Mueller's base, and they had had to move fast within the past eight hours, daylight, to get where they were and get Harry out. Now, they were in a race to reach the Portkey before the blood-suckers got their trail. Worse, before Voldemort and his minions discovered that their 'prize' had escaped.

Harry didn't know how far they had marched until Alex had them stop near a small creek. They spread out, taking cover behind fallen logs, the base of tree trunks, whatever looked tempting in a circle facing outward. Alex went over to Harry and whispered, "Water break, ten minutes." Fish went around collecting water bottles, and was filling them up. Harry took a position behind a log, his CAR-15 at the ready, letting the cold air sink into his bones. The silence was eerie…

Fish had filled up the last canteen and tossed one over to Harry. Harry caught it, and nodded his thanks. Fish grinned, and his teeth were white as a bolt of green hit him from above, dead before he hit the ground. Harry was stunned, and then things got real interesting.

A Ghurka shouted, and fired into the branches of a tree. Tumbled down a wizard with an invisibility cloak and broom, his head a slimy mess where one of the 5.56mm rounds had removed his face for him. Another Ghurka fired a burst into him, to make sure he was dead. Parachute flares rose into the air, bathing the area in a dull light. They were followed by tracers as seemingly thousands of rounds of ammunition started to hammer into their little glen. The rounds had the crack of 7.62mm short, standard Eastern Bloc ammunition. Obviously, the vampires had found them and were going after them with both hands.

Harry hugged the ground, one eye still closed to protect his night vision, his insides trying to protect himself from the danger before him. It took him a minute to realize that he was no longer at the mercy of merciless people, that he had the means to damage unto those that were opposing him. Harry took a quick look above the parapet of the log, and ducked down as a series of rounds skimmed the top. The safety off, he rolled to the end of it, pointed towards muzzle flash, and fired a few rounds…

Which was when Alex clapped him on his arm. He was kneeling next to Harry, oblivious to the firestorm around him. Grabbing Harry by the back of his next, he yelled into his "Take two magazines, and ditch the rest of the belt kit. Keep your Browning, and any small shit in your pocket but fuck the rest. Then follow me, got it?" Harry had his kit off and was ready to go before Alex had finished speaking. Satisfied, Alex bellowed out a command in Ghurkhali. Within a few minutes, the explosions of fragmentary grenades rang through the air, followed by a dense fog of smoke as every smoke grenade available was used.

Harry followed his uncle through the dense fog. Within a few minutes, they were running hell for leather through the woods, and Harry gritted his teeth and continued. For a man with a fucked up knee, Alex could run pretty fast, and that was precisely what he was doing, dodging and weaving past trees, logs, and other assorted debris. His chest felt on fire, his legs stung, but still he ran even though the pain was starting to appear. Behind him he heard more explosions, a greater amount of weapons fire. Harry wondered where the rally point as Alex was having them bomb-burst and scatter.

For what seemed like an eternity they ran, stopping only only for a minute, as Alex pulled a map out of his pocket, and set it on the ground. Shrugging out of his smock, he draped it over his head and used it to block the dull light from his red-filtered torch. Harry took a position next to him, and scanned the area around them. Alex had a Silva compass and was using it and a military protractor to figure out where the hell they were. Based on how fast they had gotten the hell out of the last firefight, they could be miles from the rally point where they would link up with Fish and the…

_Fish is dead_, a small voice reminded Harry.

Harry was given more pressing matters as Alex threw off the smock and gestured Harry to follow him. Once again, they took off at a dead sprint for a few minutes followed by a fast-paced march. Alex was like a machine, and they didn't stop until the dawn started to break, and before them stood a circle of stones, set like a firepit. Harry started to breathe a little easier, for that meant the blood-sucking motherfuckers would have to stop their hunt for them, albeit temporarily.

Alex slung off his rifle, and motioned Harry to come near him. Harry did so, and Alex ordered him, "Drop your weapon, as I got to prep you for the Floo." He had removed a small brown leather pouch, and appeared to be

"Floo? I thought you said we were going to be using a Portkey?"

"Had to say it that way to as you would be wanting an explanation that takes too damn. Now, shut it and let me prep you."

"Prep?" Harry was starting to not like the way things were sounding as time went by. Worse, the potion he had been on was wearing off, and he was probably starting to go into shock as he could feel himself shivering and shaking. Alex noticed, for he moved faster, dusting him with a brownish powder that smelled faintly of nutmeg. That done, he dropped one bag and brought another, this one black, from his smock and started sprinkling liberal quantities on and around the ring of stones. After a minute, holding the bag, he went over to Harry and walked him near the edge of the stones.

Harry was starting to feel wobbly, his head spinning, but still had enough control over himself to ask, "Where's everybody else?"

Alex didn't answer, he merely started taking the dust from the black bag, and sprinkled it over Harry. Harry asked again; Alex sighed and responded, "Ghurkas never surrender, and when I asked that they buy us time, they did so…With their lives."

"All of them?"

"To the last round, and the last man."

"Why?"

Alex stopped his dusting for a moment, and looked into Harry's eyes. His face was one of determination, and his voice was steel as he told Harry, " I have very little family left, and what I have left I hold dear. Billy Fish was a good friend, and he held family the same way. When I asked him to follow me to Hogwarts, he knew the risks, and wouldn't have had it any other way. Which was why him and his men fought like that."

Alex pulled something from around his neck, and placed it over Harry's head. Harry examined, and it appeared to be some kind of religious medal, which was strange since both sides of his family had been Anglican or Episcopalian. Alex explained, "Gerry's. He gave it to me before got on the troopship for Borneo. It's kept me safe since then. Now, I figure you need it. Saint George takes cares of fools and drunks like you and me."

He grinned slyly, and continued, "Besides, there's a one shot charm on it. Once I send you through this temporary Floo network back to the extraction point, it will seal the network and prevent the fuckers from following you."

"And you?"

"I can apparate, and once you're on your way I'll be getting out via Norway, Germany, France, and home. Now this," Alex stuffed a silver object that looked like a cigar tube into the inner pocket of Harry's smock, and explained that once he landed out of the Floo he was to use device, which would fire a flare. "This will bring in the rescue elements. Just remember, once you get there, just stand fast and…"

"Do nothing." Harry thought he was hearing things, for that was the drawl of Lucius Malfoy. Eyes darting, Harry felt his insides numb as he spotted the line of black-robed and masked figures moving towards them from the forest. For a moment, he wildly thought that it wasn't Alex, or that Alex was one of them as didn't he have a magical eye that could have spotted these sodding bastards?

Harry took a look into Alex's eyes for a moment, and once again saw the iron will behind them. Alex had spotted them, but in order to give Harry a chance to escape he had calmly gone about prepping him as though it were business as usual. Based on the terrain they were in, Harry knew they would have been hard-pressed to fight that many Death Eaters and win. True, they would have taken more then a few of them before they got slotted, but they would still be dead.

Tears formed at his eyes, for he fully realized the sacrifice his uncle was willing to make. Indeed, was making as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulders, and said softly, "I've always loved you like my own son, Harry."

"Step away, Evans. We deal with the boy." The skirmish line continued to move forward. Harry felt the hand on his shoulder moving, but didn't dare look for he remembered another bag held in that hand. What was his uncle doing?

"Harry?"

"Yessir?" Harry's voice was raspy, hard with emotion.

"When you're back holding your woman in your arms, young man," Alex's face was starting to light up with amusement.

"This is your last warning, mudblood." Lucius and his crew had stopped and had them surrounded. It was obvious now more then ever that they wouldn't be able to break out of this one so easily.

Alex had his trademark confident, leering grin on, and for some reason Harry felt his blood quicken.

"Harry?"

"Yes, uncle?"

"Give her a squeeze for me." Alex laughed, and pushed him into the circle. Harry felt himself fall into a pool of water, only this time it was a green crackling field. The last vision he had of his uncle was as he drew his wand from the sleeve of his and was spinning to meet his enemies.

Harry felt himself fall for a moment, and then land with a splash. Water rushed through his nose and mouth, making him cough and splutter. Rolling over on to his side, Harry looked through dirty, water splashed glasses to notice that he was no longer in the forest clearing, that he was near the shoreline of lake that was surrounded by woods, and the mountains in the distance looked like the ones he had seen in the distance around Hogwarts. Harry was real close to home.

Weak, tired, cold, miserable…Harry had been there and did it before. Or at least he thought he had for Harry was discovering just how much training was worth as he crawled on his belly through the mud and out of the water. His feet still in, he brought the signal flare out of his pocket, and slammed the flat on the ground.

Hissss 

Bursting from it was a bright scarlet phoenix that shot out into the sky, and grew for several minutes before disappearing. In a way it was almost like a Dark Mark.

Harry rolled over on to his back, and looked at the sky. Overcast, not a sight of blue. All in all, if he had to die here and now, it wouldn't be a bad way to go, with his face to the clouds, and relatively comfortable on a beach of sorts. True, the cold was somewhat biting, and the water wasn't all that pleasant, but still it was a sight better then the screaming he had had to undergo before Alex rescued.

It reminded him that his uncle may or may not back it back. That thought was only temporary, as Harry knew his uncle was the dirtiest and smartest bastard this side of the wizarding world, and if anyone could march through hell and back it would be…

Harry's thoughts were interrupted as he felt himself doze. Rapidly, he blinked his eyes and shifted the position of his body, feeling the cold, relishing the thing that was his hope of survival. Silently, he thought of every good thing that had happened to him, to keep him going. Hogwarts, his friends both from school and combat, the women he had slept with…The girl he loved more then any other, Ginny…

In his mind, he asked why he felt that way, and answered his questions, playing the Devil's barrister. In the time he had gotten to know her, she always brought a smile to his face, she was there to talk to, to laugh with, to be one whom he drew strength from, both drew their strength from the other…If that wasn't love, then what was? Harry was glad that his uncle had given him the opportunity to learn to distinguish what was true love from a temporary feeling over the summer. Alex had probably saved his mental health, and given him the tools he had needed to fight, and survive against a most determined opponent. To come back to Ginny…

Harry had a vision of her, dressed in her finest for the Yule Ball, and the night they had first made love…_Truly there is a difference between the two, fucking is entertainment, the other is much, much more_…Harry mused to himself. _Odd the thoughts you had when you were slowly dieing, for all hypothermia is death extra slowly._

His thoughts came to an end for in the distance he could hear a noise unlike that a broom made when it was flying. On his back, Harry looked around, and saw a sight he thought he would only see in pictures…Rather, in pictures or if he went to the Middle East, for there was a flying carpet not unlike that he had seen in illustrations from 'Arabian Nights', with the twins steering it like a boat, Neville and Doc and even Ron carrying assault rifles and British Army rig.

Harry smiled, and watched as his three friends jumped into the water from a height of five feet from carpet. Eyes swiveling, his last sight before he drifted into the darkness was of three people on broomsticks flying over his position in a standard v-formation.


	35. Chapter XXXV: New Orders

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter I

AN: All right, first things first:

1: One person asked that I give a few sources about MI5, I advise _Spy-Catcher _by Peter Wright (non-fiction), _The Fourth Protocol_ by Frederick Forsyth, and their website which can be found by Google because the closest text reference to them I used was about twenty years out of date. I was fortunate since the time period I was using was close to the period in the few texts I had available.

2: In response to some criticism about some of the actions taken by characters in the fic, read carefully as I'm aiming for subtlety, not having to explain things in big print and flashcards.

3: Sorry for the delay and all I can promise is another long wait after this one as here is the game plan: I got back home after a tough semester, with a series of finals that ran me ragged. Read carefully, and you'll figure out the riddle. As I care greatly about quality as opposed to quantity, this next chapter will be a tie-in for the chapter after, as that one will be massive. End-state: a long wait between updates. Or, maybe I could break up the massive chapter into parts, as I really want to update this story and finish it. It's always the last couple hundred yards that are the hardest to finish…

**Chapter XXXV: New Orders**

"Get the fucking catheter in his…"

Images, sights and sounds came into his mind. Harry wasn't sure if they were his images, or those that his mind up from stories Alex had told him. Above him were Jack and Ron, both staring down with fear in their eyes. Someone was clutching his hand, and yelling "Hang in there, Harry, hang the fuck in there!" The sight swam, and was replaced by two dirty characters, their faces streaked with cammy cream, one holding up a bag of Ringer's solution. Harry could feel something in his hands, and when his eyes looked down he saw rosary beads clutched in his hands. Alex's best mate Nicky had been Catholic, whilst Doc was Creole Catholic…Dream or sight? Harry didn't know, and really didn't care.

Vaguely he could feel the air rush past him, whispered snatches of conversation in his ears.

"Bloody hell he's…"

"Where the fuck is…"

"No time, the school is…"

Harry felt as though he were dropping, and soon could hear someone order, "PONCHO! GET ME A PONCHO!"

Somebody gently picked him up and set him down again. Harry felt himself lifted up, lying on some cloth that they were using as a stretcher. Gingerly, he forced open his eyes, and saw above him the outside of the school. Ron, Doc, Neville, and Fred (or was it George?) were holding on the corners of the cloth, moving him as fast as they could. The doors were open, and Harry heard Neville yell, "GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" A group of students appeared to the sides of their group as Harry could hear their booted steps echoing through the halls.

"Harry…"

The voice was that of Hermione, and Harry turned to see her with…Ginny. Harry couldn't make out much details of her, but still there was no denying who was next to Hermione. _My red-haired angel_, he thought, a smile creeping to his lips as he felt the darkness surround him.

"Hang in there, mate!" Ron, flapping big-time.

The sight faded, and Harry got to see an overhead view of Madame Pomfrey hard at work with wand and potion on something lying on a hospital bed. Behind her stood the Headmaster, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall. It took Harry a moment to realize that that was himself, all battered, bruised and bloody that was on that table. Harry soon lost sight of the vision as he drifted off into the darkness…

The next thing he saw had to be a nightmare…Dumbledore and McGonagall at the foot of his bed, in front of them Percy Weasley, Dolores Umbridge, Diggory the Elder, the blonde fuck from Slytherin (minus his two hulking morons), and…Fudge? With Kingsley Shacklebolt and someone he didn't recognize wearing the badge of the Auror's Division. Umbridge had that nauseating smile on her face, and was showing a piece of parchment towards the headmaster. Albus looked down at it, smiled, and talked. Strangely, Harry couldn't hear anything in this nightmare. Only watch as it seemed everyone else in the room started to get excited. The headmaster put a hand on the shoulder of McGonagall, his lips moving, and after a few moments she left, backing away from the group. Harry could see the Headmaster was acting calm, his face expressionless. It didn't look good as Percy's Dictation Quill was going wild recording everything that was being said. Fudge's cronies were also slowly drawing their wands. The Minister yelled something at Dumbledore, the Headmaster replied back, and everything went white to Harry.

Harry found himself back at that country roadside in Wales, where he had first seen combat, killed his first man. Those that he had killed were staring at him, their wounds gruesome, and smells that he had lodged in the back of his thoughts, smells he had largely forgotten as the undead didn't smell as bad once they had been killed as a human did, came back to hit him hard. In his nostrils was the acrid stench of urine and copper from the one prisoner they had taken, copper from the blood he had shed, urine from when he had pissed himself after one of Neville's rounds had gotten him. Harry wanted to vomit as the overpowering smell of shit was around him. Alex had told him that war and killing were very messy, very nasty bits of work that weren't in the least admirable or enviable. Indeed, Alex had told him one night after dinner the only reason he had taught Harry all that he knew, still taught him, of killing and maiming was that Harry was already in a bind that not learning such things would be a death sentence...

The Irishman he had shot was standing there in the middle of the road, pointing at him laughing. Harry felt a fingernail on his right ear, turned his head, and saw Alice, her face pale as she looked at him. She was naked, an obscene image of nudity and carnage, blood dripping from the wound to her throat. Harry was startled, and backed away. Not turning, he tripped and felt himself falling….A dark hallway loomed before him, with a solitary black door at its end. Harry fell towards it, the door getting larger and larger…

Harry's eyes shot open, and he found himself lying in a bed, dripping with sweat. Taking time to control his breathing, he squinted his eyes, and tried to get his bearings. Around him were other beds, with the same white linen sheets and gray bedcovers as his. Harry realized that he was back at Hogwarts in the Infirmary. Judging by the light, it was midday. Harry saw on stand next to his bed were his glasses, and a pitcher of water. Putting them on, Harry saw that he wasn't alone, for the House-Elf Dobby was asleep on the bed next to his. Harry didn't want to wake, but since he was minus wand, weapons, and clothes besides the hospital pajamas he had on, he didn't have much choice either. Gently, he swung his legs out of bed, got up and…fell face-first on to the other bed, causing the poor House-Elf to jump with fright. Harry wasn't much help either, as he suddenly found walking a very tiring exercise.

Propping himself back on to his bed using his elbows, Harry reassured Dobby that he was all right, and in between gasps of air asked if he would be so kind as to get his some clothes, and toiletries from his dorm. Dobby, once satisfied that 'Mister Potter' wasn't going to keel over dead, disappeared with a pop. Harry busied himself by drinking a few glasses of water as he had taken a look at the urine in his bedpan, and it didn't look too healthy. As he did so, he found his wand, watch, ID discs with Ginny's pendant on stainless steel chain, and St.George medal. Taking his watch in hand, Harry opened it and saw that the lunch hour would be within half an hour. Looking at the date, it was a Thursday, the end of the month of January having come and gone. All told, the latest drama had sucked up almost a week of his life. Harry guessed he must have been out of it for a couple of days, as he knew he had been held at least three days in that hellhole.

Dobby returned with a clean set of school uniforms and Harry's shower bag, and Harry thanked him as Dobby took off, claiming that he was needed there. Harry took his kit to the showers right outside the Infirmirary, and stripped naked. Examining himself, he saw that most of his injuries had scabbed over or were gone, and that besides the physical marks and looking like a bloody ghost in color, Harry didn't look too bad. Well, not that bad considering some of the things they _could_ have done to him…Harry wondered for a moment that something wasn't right. Why wasn't there anybody on hand to talk to him as soon as he woke up? It wasn't that he wanted someone to wait on him hand and foot, but common sense and standard procedure would have called for a debriefing to figure out just how much information he had compromised. Considering the information he had been privy to, he was rather surprised Snape wasn't up here pouring Veritaserum down his throat to go over the past several in miniscule detail. Not to mention the fact Pomfrey was very, _very_ watchful of the charges placed in her care, and she was nowhere to be found…

Wetting down and combing his hair (Harry was usually able to deal with his hair for a day when it was long, and since it usually took only a day to grow back if he cut it, he usually wore it trimmed long enough to part), Harry took a breath and left the Infirmirary. Still not seeing Madam Pomfrey anywhere, Harry walked through the hallways towards the Great Hall. Harry made it there without passing anybody, and took a peek in. Sure enough, the whole bloody school was in there stuffing their faces…Harry stepped away from the doorway, and took a deep breath. There weren't any faculty members there, but the last thing he wanted at this point was to be questioned by _anybody_…Still, he was hungry, and needed some food in him.

Harry took a step in, and started heading towards the Gryffindor table, his eyes darting around the room, watchful for any sudden surprises. It took him only a moment to realize that the noise in the hall was dieing down, as everybody was watching him. Harry didn't care, as he made his way to the Gryffindor table, none of his friends in sight. Everybody seemed to only watch him. Harry sat down, and poured himself a goblet of water, drank, filled it with water and drank again. As he did so, he gazed emotionlessly at the faces around him. None of them had gone to say hello, though the Gryffindor side and a few others he knew had waved or nodded at him in a friendly way. Those people who had greeted him Harry had given a friendly nod and smile, but of the rest few could meet his gaze for long, and went back to doing what they had been doing before. Most merely gave him a sideways look, their expressions indicated something he didn't know. This was upsetting, and while Harry knew it probably wasn't a good idea to try and stare down the better part of the student body, he didn't care as he let his emotions slowly get to him.

While he hadn't hoped for a goddamn parade when he got back (indeed, he hadn't been thinking much of _getting_ back), he had expected something more then to be patched up and pretty much left to his own devices once it looked like he could pull through. It was also pretty upsetting to know that the government that was supposed to protect the wizarding world was oblivious to the threat, indeed was currying the favor and money of such scum as the Malfoys and others of old-line wizarding families who supported Voldemort. All whilst good men and women in the Order and those covert operators who disobeyed the party line within the Ministry risked their lives on a daily basis. Harry was pretty 'upset' that he had had to pack quite a few goblins in rubber bags so that Bladvak could send them back to be buried in their home base. It was infuriating to think that Lucius and his son could rape and kill and mutilate a squib woman and the organs of justice wouldn't hunt them, indeed government would call both upstanding members of society. All the while, eight good men were moldering in the Latvian countryside, and his uncle…

Harry suddenly grew cold as he remembered a conversation with his uncle about Gerry, Alex and Lilly's biological father. Of how as a little boy looking at the picture of 'Uncle' Gerry on the wall of their living room young Alex would want nothing more then to one day be just like that. Harry realized with a cold, icy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Alex had indeed become like Gerry: both were missing, and unaccounted for…

"_Harry!!_"

Harry turned and saw Doc, Hermione, Katrina, Ron, and Neville walking towards him at a fast pace. Doc was even more hurried, pushing past a couple of third-year Ravenclaws who gave him dirty looks that he ignored as he slapped Harry on the back and shook his hand. Ron did likewise as the women hugged him, all of them asking him if he was all right. Harry smiled thinly, and nodded. "Did Ginny make it back all right?" While he had seen he fly over the wall he had to be sure.

Ron nodded, and looked as though he were going to say something when Hermione, face frowned in thought, beat him to the punch.

"Harry, what were you two doing out there at that hour?" Harry had had a good idea that someone was going to ask that and had already thought of a simple, _honest_ response…

"I was giving a helping hand to the Team with the upcoming Slytherin game. Which reminds me, we won didn't we?"

Neville, who had been sitting across from him next to Katrina, shook his head, and looked over at Ron. "You want to tell him or should I?"

Harry's friends told him of the night when he had been captured. It had been late in the evening, and everyone had been in the common room when McGonagall had burst in, a gaggle of students she had commandeered from the library behind her. She had told Ron and Hermione that the school was under lock-down, and everyone was to stay in the tower. Everyone had started flapping when neither Harry nor Ginny could be found. They had waited for about an hour, which was when Dumbledore had called an assembly in the Great Hall. By that time, McGonagall had informed them of Ginny, but not of Harry. Nobody had a good idea of what had happened. They had trooped into the Hall where Doc had been talking to Ginny, and the teachers were sitting at their table. In the space in front of the teacher's table was a long row of bodies, covered up by black cloth. Ginny had been crying, looking pale, and hadn't said much as everyone asked what was going on. Nev said he had an idea things were pretty bad when he saw the bodies, and the fact that Harry wasn't there was especially ominous.

Once everyone was present and accounted for, Dumbledore had gotten right to the point: the school had been attacked, they had taken casualties, and so had the enemy. More importantly, one of their own was missing, and it was Harry. This had caused Neville and Doc to grab Ron and pin him to the table when he had decided it would be a splendid idea to rearrange Malfoy's face when the Slytherin table hadn't been exactly shocked, and Malfoy had smiled when Dumbledore had announced that Harry had gone missing. Alex had stepped in then, giving quick orders, all blunt and business.

Fourth-years and below were to stay in their respective dorms until further notice. Fifth and above were to form search parties in groups of four, using any and all available brooms and, equipped with magical detection, track Harry or his captors within a fifty kilometer radius to include the forest. On the ground, Allister Moody, Professor Ramius, and other faculty that weren't guarding the school would be likewise searching along with help from the goblins and dwarves. Alex had then called out the Weasley twins, telling them to bring forth the project that they had been working on for him.

The project had been a magic carpet holding eight people, and the twins had been working on it, with the blessing and protection of Alex Evans, breaking countless Ministry rules and regulations in the process. Hermione had said that at the time, worried about the backlash, but had been promptly ignored as Alex had named Neville in overall command of the air aspect of the search. Within thirty minutes, the school had been emptied out as everybody was airborne searching in eight-hour shifts the surrounding area of the school. Alex, after issuing his orders, had promptly disappeared with Billy Fish. When Neville had asked him his role in the upcoming search, he had grinned feral, and replied, "Hunting." Alex had then given him the keys to unlock the arms room for the Self Defense and Dueling Club, and pretty much everybody who was comfortable with firearms had been packing in addition to their wands.

For the next two days and nights they had searched. Even though it was winter, a warm front had moved in, making it cold and miserable as a period of icy rain battered down on them. School had pretty much been shut down as Neville and his search teams combed every centimeter of dirt. Moody and the goblins had done likewise, things getting nasty on the ground as the Centaurs had launched hit and run attacks on the parties, and a full-scale firefight had broken out when they had stumbled upon the Arcmantula lair in the center of the forest. Moody was tight-lipped about the details, but the magical wireless set they had aboard the carpet had been tuned to the goblin's frequency, and they had taken casualties.

On the third day, Dumbledore had announced over the wireless that they had twenty-four hours before they called the search off. The reason being was that Draco Malfoy had vanished without a trace from the school library during the down-time between flights. Albus had received word that shortly a team from the Ministry of Magic would be there to take charge of the investigation and search, as Fudge had decided to step in personally. Harry snorted at that, but listened as Neville stopped for a moment. Doc picked up where he had left off, as towards dawn of the fourth day, Neville had sent everyone back, but from then (with Doc, Ron, and twins in perfect agreement) had said fuck Malfoy and continued the search for Harry. Harry glanced over at Neville, and was about to thank him when he was waved off.

Doc finished the story, "So, anyhow, we continued the search pattern a couple more times until this big damn red thing shot out of the woods to the West. Before your uncle took off, he briefed us that he was operating in a communications blackout, and the only way we would reach him was if he fired off fireworks of a sort that was rather visible. We saw it, did a flyby, and picked you up."

Harry had figured as much, and yawned heavily. Shaking his head, he picked up a goblet of water, only to have it slip out of his fingers and spill over the table. Swearing, he drew his wand and cleaned up his mess. Rather he tried to, for he found his right hand shaking uncontrollably and stared at it, not really thinking. After all, imagine if _you_ suddenly found your hand shaking like a leaf in the middle of a winter's storm?

Fortunately, he was saved from further explanation for he heard the voice upon which he had prayed, hoped, he would hear once more. "Hello, Harry." It was soft, warm, and velvety, Harry had to control his feelings as he turned and saw Ginny and Luna walk hurriedly towards the Gryffindor table. Harry kept his shaking hand to his side, out of sight, instead throwing his other around Ginny as she gave him what appeared to be a friendly embrace. It was quick, yet Harry was never a man to waste his time, breathing in the clean scent of her, feeling her warmth for that second. Ginny took the empty seat next to his right, Luna joining her. Harry gave her a brief look before being drawn back into the game he hated, yet played so well because he had to. "Harry, I know you just got back, but…"

"Hermione, let him."

"Na, go ahead Hermione, what?"

"Where's Professor Evans, Harry?"

That had been a question Harry had been dreading, and even in his present surroundings the events of his little rescue played in his mind like a bad film reel. Harry, his hand under control now somewhat, drank some water, and looked around his circle of friends. Truly they were friends, true friends, as with all he had shared danger or deprivation or both. He had to tell them, as all of them had suffered to some extent in the period he had suffered…Some more so then others perhaps…

Slowly, in a low voice, he began relating his story, of how he had been secretly instructing Ginny in the finer points of the Firebolt to use in the upcoming game. Of how they had stumbled across the blood-sucking bastards by accident, of how Harry had deduced that if they had penetrated that close to the school none of the security measure in place had detected, and the delaying action he had fought as a result. Harry didn't linger over his captivity, as he knew they had seen the state he had been in brought out of the forest. To answer Hermione's question, he told of the rescue, the new information brought to light, of blood and death in a far-away land. Despite his control of his emotions, Harry found himself almost whispering the end of the story: of Alex leering and laughing in the face of death.

Harry looked in the face of Hermione, and shrugged, "That was the last I saw of him, and until I talk to the Headmaster." Ron slowly slapped his forehead, everybody seemed to be agitated. Doc and Neville looked into their goblets, and it was Ginny who told the tale. Dumbledore had been forced to flee when Fudge and the Ministry tried to arrest him. Dolores Umbridge was now the new Headmistress, and things weren't good in Hogwarts land. Moody, Ramius, and Figg had been fired, the dwarf and goblin protectors of the school sent away. All activities of the Dueling and Muggle Self-Defense Club had been curtailed, curfew hours were even more strictly enforced with the help of a group of students called the Inquisitorial Squad, and the Quidditch season placed on hold for the foreseeable future.

Listening until he was sure she was finished, Harry asked, "What was the charge for Dumbledore's arrest?"

"Kidnapping."

"ME!?" Harry thought had to be the most asinine thing he had ever…

"No, Malfoy."

"What?"

Ginny sighed, "Evans apparently kidnapped Malfoy, for what, no one's sure. All anybody knows is that Malfoy disappeared for several days, and didn't return until the day you were found. The next day Umbridge and Fudge showed up, claiming Evans was the ringleader with knowledge and support of the Headmaster and things degenerated into that dust-up in the Infirmirary…" Harry could no longer hear her, remembering how his uncle had spat in his face there was no boundary he would not cross if it meant protecting him and those he loved. From what he knew, from what had happened, Harry knew that Alex had gotten his location in the most brutal and efficient way possible: kidnapping the only child of a prominent Death Eater, and bartering a life for a life. No wonder he wasn't rotting in a shallow grave or screaming himself hoarse, begging for death…

Harry didn't hear anything else, but then noticed everyone at the table tensing up, Ron scowling. _What the hell_ _is_…

"Welcome back, Potter"

Malfoy the younger, doubtless with his goon squad following close behind him. Harry breathed deeply, and turned in his chair slowly. Sure enough, there was the blonde-headed son of a whore, a disgustingly arrogant smirk on his face. Next to him were Crabbe and Goyle, and that heifer from Slytherin called Bullstrode. The fact all of them had drawn wands held to their sides…and one their robes were silver badges with a large 'I' decorated on them. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising, that tingling sensation he had when the adrenaline was flowing…Something bad was going to happen, and Harry had to wonder if he still had it after some of the shit he had had to put up with during his captivity…

The Goon Squad moved quickly, all pointing their wands at him. Harry was vaguely aware that the whole bloody school seemed to be watching. Worse, of the couple of faculty members at their table, none seemed to be making any moves to stop them. "Get up Potter," Malfoy commanded. Harry did so, and immediately Crabbe and Goyle had gripped him by the arms and started pushing and hauling him to the front of the room, the area in front of the faculty table. Not resisting, Harry looked around, and saw that everyone was watching in frank curiosity, wondering what was going to happen. Looking over towards the door, Harry spotted Dolores Umbridge, Severus Snape, and Minerva McGonagall walking towards their table. The two he knew had their faces expressionless, whilst that of the toad-like woman was one of triumph, glee…Things Harry had seen all too well in his captivity to know that what was about to happen wasn't going to be very pleasant.

Malfoy and his goons stopped in front of the table, and waited until the Headmistress and the two professors had taken their seats. Umbridge looked at him, her face having that smile he hated. "So, I see you are awake now, Mister Potter?" Harry shuddered slightly; her voice made him want to vomit. Nodding, he looked her in the eyes, and demanded, "Indeed, now is there a point for all of this, ma'am?"

"Yes, there is, let me read to you…" Umbridge pulled a scroll out of her robes, and began reading. It told of a kidnapping plot by Alex Evans, with the assistance and possible direction of the Headmaster, plotted to kidnap and blackmail a friend of the Minister of Magic. Additionally, there had been evidence to indicate the creation of a private force under the control of the Headmaster. All apparently in attempts to circumvent and/or undermine the authority of the rightful government. While the two main culprits had yet to be found, Harry was considered an unwitting accomplice, one nonetheless guilty of lying, cheating, and a host of other minor infractions.

The story didn't make much sense, almost glaringly a chunk of propaganda. Yet Harry knew that it would be believed more so then any defense he could give of being on the front lines of a dirty, vicious war in the shadows.

"Based on what you have previously done for the wizarding world, the Minister has shown leniency in regards to your own punishment." Umbridge paused, and Harry knew the ax was about to fall, and he had accepted the possibility of something like this for a very long time. Harry briefly wondered what it would be…Expulsion, imprisonment, exile with his memory modified of the world of magic?

"Harold James Potter of House Gryffindor, for the rest of your school career at Hogwarts, you are prohibited from playing Quidditch, attending any clubs, organizations, or socials, and any possible position of leadership. Your house will not lose any house points over the matter due to the severity of the offenses you have committed. Nonetheless, you will be punished as I have reinstated corporal punishment." Harry's ears perked up at this, for after what he had just gone through what would getting hit a couple more times does to him? It certainly couldn't kill him, make him beg for mercy when that cunt had almost castrated him…

Umbridge continued, "You have your choices: a dozen lashes with a cane on your rear end, or two dozen on your back." She looked at him, and smirked, "What shall it be Mister Potter?"

Harry could figure out that she was lying through her teeth, that the second, more painful one was the real punishment. The bitch wanted him to look weak before his peers, a coward to whom the crowd she was playing to it would become obvious her story had merit.

Harry smiled, "The back, of course. I wouldn't want to give the masochists here the satisfaction of watching them whip my ass."

"Language, Mister Potter. That will be an extra six lashes. Now step forward and remove your clothing from the waist up." Harry laughed and stepped forward, shedding his clothes quickly and efficiently. No wasted motions, as within a few heartbeats he could hear the gasps from the student body as they saw the shape his back was in. _Doubtless they have never seen the effects a red-hot poker, cigarettes, whicker canes, and the occasional sharp edge will do to the human body_, Harry thought to himself. Judging by the reactions of those in front of him, Harry knew many of the teachers hadn't either. Umbridge seemed to have paled when she saw his injuries, but nonetheless instructed him to move forward. Harry looked over his professors, and saw that McGonagall's faced was in an expressionless mask, whatever her feelings were he couldn't tell. Snape though…Harry couldn't tell just what he was thinking, but deep down he knew the whoreson must feel something good to watch the son of an enemy punished like this…

Harry stared into the eyes of the man he considered an enemy, yet one who was an enemy of an even greater enemy. Did that make him a friend? Harry had been trying to figure that out, and still didn't have a good answer. Then he felt the sting of the thin rod of willow that was being used on him. In the corner of his eyes, Harry saw that Malfoy and Filch were wielding the instruments. Harry kept his face blank of expression, his mind thinking instead of far more pleasanter things. In his mind he replayed his memories of Ginny. That first kiss, both cold and drawing upon each other for warmth those months earlier, Harry thought of that and not of the pain that stung across his damaged torso. In his mind, he could see those soft lips, the smell of her hair…

Harry's thoughts stopped as he felt something intrude on the very peripheries of his mind. Just as quickly as he drew upon his memories, he shut them up, imagining a blank wall. Angry now, he glared over at Snape, sure that the greasy headed motherfucker had decided to peep on whatever he thought of to keep going. Harry wondered for a moment if he should rip into Snape's mind, to see just what _he_ used to keep himself sane during the times of trial. Just as quickly as the thought occurred, he got rid of it, as he heard the twenty-eight crack on his back. Patiently, he waited, and felt the next two. Umbridge proclaimed his sentence complete, and to catch up on any school work. Malfoy and his goon squad walked towards their table, and Snape tossed him his shirt and robes.

Harry could feel the blood running down his back as he tossed on the shirt, buttoned it half way, and turned to the front. Everyone was staring at him, and he could see Hermione and Ginny both had tears in their eyes. Holding his head high, Harry felt isolated, a fool as everything that he had fought for, bleed for, nearly died for, and had been for naught it seemed. In circumstances like that, he did the only thing he could do…

Without another glance, he strode to the doors of the Great Hall, and left for the Infirmirary.


	36. Chapter XXXVI: Interludes and Drinking

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter I

Okay, just to let you all know I consider this the worst one I've written so far as I had a different version already written but then fate intervened, and the whole lot got deleted. It wasn't amusing to say the least. That, coupled with the disappointing feedback I got when I took a stab at the grandfather of all fan fiction (X-files), hasn't been too encouraging.

Oh well, shit happens, and just to clear up any bad air (it was pointed out in a review) I don't have anything against slash fics, just I don't read them, and I hate it when the slash part is kind of surprised upon you. I mean, one minute you think you'll be reading of a bloody and gory fire-fight and the next thing you know you have Harry getting his colon examined by Colin Creevey and his 'magic probe'. Surely it isn't too hard to ask that you list what sort of sexual connotations are present in your work? You use about a calorie and add about a couple of bytes to your work when you write in the warning, so it isn't that much.

Finally…Thank you to all who have read and responded to the work. I've a lot more confidence in my writing ability then I had when I, on a whim after reading some of the HG fan fics out there, put fingers to keys. A long-term project will be writing a historical novel of my alma mater, a decent project considering the history of it. Anyhow, thanks to all, even those who had some not so nice things to say.

Warning: If you don't like humor so crude it came from the Stone Age, leave now.

**Chapter XXXVI: Interludes and Drinking**

The next several months were easily the worst of Harry's life. His caning may have hurt, and the potions he was on for a month to detoxify the various drugs he had been on gave him the running shits, but that wasn't as bad as to the fact he was isolated from just about any outside news. Umbridge had blocked off Floo access to all fireplaces except her own, and anybody who wanted to use them had to do so while being monitored. Owl mail was being screened and censored, and Filch had much help from the Inquisitorial Squad, who had the same powers granted to them as teachers as to the deduction of House points. Worse, their roving patrols were equipped with magical sensors to detect those who used Invisibility cloaks or chameleon charms, and coupled with the fact they always seemed to have a team watching over the entrance and hallways to the Gryffindor tower, Harry found his edge in terms of the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's map negated.

Needless to say, this ensured that any attempts on his or Ginny's parts to meet in secret were pretty much killed before they even started. After the warnings he had received from the new Headmistress of the school, he was unable to do much to fix the situation, much to his, and no doubt Ginny's, frustration and disgust.

Umbridge had sat him down in a meeting the morning after he had been caned. She had been oozing false kindness, telling him that she hadn't had much choice in the matter. Her true colors had become rather evident when she had started to ask pointed and direct questions on just how much he knew of Dumbledore's current location. Sitting in his chair before the Headmistress, Harry had responded that he hadn't a clue, and then proceeded 'accidentally' spilled his tea cup and the tea next to it all over her desk, which promptly got her upset and him thrown out of the classroom. Harry had been rather suspicious of the tea by how Umbridge was constantly watching him as he put the cup to his lips, and telling him he should partake more of it. Considering her position within the Ministry, as well as her penchant for breaking the rules in order to protect her master Fudge, Harry had no doubts the bitch had slipped him some Veritaserum or something equally pleasant. Harry had left with her dire warning that if he were caught doing anything remotely illegal, the consequences would be dire.

As a result, there was almost no reprieve, no rest for Harry. Daily, during the school week, he did his school work with the same ardor as he had before. This ardor was given a long-term goal when, a week after he got back during the registration for the OWLs in May he was counseled about what career he wanted to engage in after Hogwarts. He had before given thought to becoming an Auror, or maybe playing Quidditch professionally, or maybe even taking up Colonel Ferguson's offer of going into the Army. Now, with the disappearance of his uncle, with no information whatsoever coming to him, Harry's thoughts had hardened: he was going to become an Auror regardless of what it cost him. He hadn't said so outright, though it had been ringing through his head as he had sat down before McGonagall and Umbridge, listening to the latter inform him that he would never become an Auror, not with the criminal record he possessed. This had sparked an argument with McGonagall, the stern Scot informing Harry that she would see him wearing the Auror's badge if it was the last thing she ever did. Needless to say, Umbridge hadn't been happy.

Life had pretty much become one of monotony as Hogwarts degenerated into a totalitarian state. Lee Jordan had been fired from the Head Boy position and given two months detention with Filch for saying the way Fred and George were being treated was an injustice. The twins and Jordan had almost been thrown out of Hogwarts and into Azkaban after Umbridge pointed out what decrees and laws the twins and Alex had broken researching and building a flying carpet. Despite their poor marks in the OWLs, the twins had been pretty good at magical sciences and engineering as their fully functional, ten-man magic carpet had proven. They were saved from prison by McGonagall, who told Umbridge that for a series of pranks they had pulled earlier in the school year they had been placed under the personal charge of Alex. Harry hadn't reacted when he had heard the implications his uncle was a dangerous criminal, as McGonagall claimed the twins had been tricked by Evans into breaking those laws. Umbridge must have bought it, for all she did was give them detention with Filch along with Lee…And had their carpet, and all of the materials they had used were burned in a bonfire on the Quidditch pitch before the assembled student body. Harry had seen the look on the twins' face, and knew that all hell would break loose given time.

The quality of their instruction had declined significantly after Harry's return. Divination had gone from one end of strange to another, as Fudge had ordered Trewlawney fired, and Dumbledore replaced her (even though she still maintained her quarters at Hogwarts) with Firenze the Centaur, who was on the run from his species for supporting Dumbledore. Professor Binns was recalled after Alex had gone missing to take over the History class, and things went back to the way they were before Alex's tenure: boredom, a lot of it. Umbridge fired Professor Ramius, claiming that the Ministry no longer recognized the status of the school in Eastern Europe. Katrina, though, managed to stay on a permanent basis as she was the daughter of Hogwarts faculty. Umbridge took over the DADA department. She must not have had a very opinion of their education, as from the moment she took over her focus was over reading about assorted creatures that were, at their worst, minor magical headaches. Harry watched as Umbridge pretty much ran the school to the ground: the Inquisitorial Squad, headed by Draco Malfoy, who now wore the badge of the Head of Hogwarts security, abused their power of taking away house points to the extent Slytherin lead by a factor of three hundred points. Quidditch was prohibited, Umbridge claiming that it detracted student's attention away from their schoolwork to the extant that he confiscated every broom in the school. Except for those on the IS and Malfoy, who claimed that those on the Inquisitorial Squad (i.e. Slytherins) needed the brooms as part of their duties.

The Dueling and Defense with Muggle Weapons Club was shut down while the blood still flowed from Harry's back. Under the pain of expulsion, no one could practice the charms and curses one would need to learn how to defend ones self. Harry found out the only good things that came out of that was that Doc had hidden the arms and explosives throughout the school, and that his friend the house-elf Dobby showed him the Room of Requirement. There, Harry was able to keep his own skills, as well that of a select few from the other houses who believed in what happened to him, and had been really involved in the old double D club. Harry was only able to do this for a couple of times a month, as it required a lot of timing and coordination from the twins, who had slowly began a campaign of pranks against Slytherin, and any that supported them. Fred and George were more then happy to provide a distraction for Harry and his group (Ginny had jokingly coined a name for their group, calling them Dumbeldore's Army, with Harry as their commander based on how him and Nev had spent their summer in Wales) to meet. Usually it involved some disaster (such as Stink bomb detonation right as most of the Slytherins were leaving for their classes) that occupied the attention of the IS and any other teacher whilst those interested beat a hasty retreat to the room.

Harry wound up having to call the meetings every other week, on a different day each time, and only then for two hours at a time. It wasn't much, but one thing he had learned was that the more he tried to increase the length of the training, or call more sessions as he knew, the way the twins did, just what sort of thin ice they were skating on. If the twins were busted, it was game over with the terrible two and more then likely Lee Jordan to boot being expelled. Should Malfoy or his goon squad stumble upon the Room of Requirement, then Harry knew they would have just the evidence they would need to throw him out of Hogwarts to the Luxury Suite at Azkaban.

Probably the only good thing in Harry's life during this time was that his relationship with Ginny, for that matter with his friends, only got stronger. It wasn't that they spent any time alone together, the way they had before. No, they had to maintain the façade of being friends on an almost constant basis. Yet Harry let her know, whenever an opportunity presented itself, that he loved her. Sitting next to her at mealtime, he would gently taker her hand in hers, and squeeze. Whenever nobody was looking, he would glance at her and her at him. It wasn't much, and Harry was tempted for a long time to let everybody know they were a couple, and had been for a while. After all, he wasn't totally sure what he had said under the knife (he was fairly certain he hadn't, but one could never be sure when one was having your fingernails removed with a pair of pincers and under the influence of LSD to boot). Whenever he got the chance to look into her eyes, he knew that was what she wanted as well, as the game they had been playing may have been hard on him; Harry wasn't blind to know that it played double for her. After all, she was beautiful, and funny, and smart, and whole host of adjectives that Harry knew. He knew that she was probably sick and tired of constantly having to tell people that her boyfriend was always busy, or a host of other half-truths to keep the other people at bay.

Yet, he kept their relationship a secret. As he had thought, he wasn't totally sure if he had revealed their relationship, and he had nothing to go on that Voldemort knew. Judging by the fact Malfoy and his goons didn't seem to know, than there was nothing to indicate the Dark Lord did either. So Harry and Ginny had to settle for the occasional caress and touch, a game of footsy under the table at meals, and one time, when it had been six months since they had gone out, Harry had whispered to her as she leaned next to him during a study session of 'love you'. Harry felt Ginny didn't deserve this, but he had rapidly come to the conclusion that without her he would probably do something stupid…It was selfish, he knew but he couldn't help it…Not that Ginny indicated she wanted to break it off due to the hardship, though again Harry often thought that if she did he wouldn't blame her, but until then he would settle for what he had now, and hope that he could one day make up for it…

The months passed, and Harry watched as Umbridge tarnished the school he considered more of a home then the place he stayed in Surrey every summer. In March, during the height of the Umbridge domination, with detentions reaching an all-time high, Slytherin having, for the first time in Hogwarts History, a five hundred point lead in the race for the House Cup, and student body morale in the toilet, Umbridge hastily brought back the Quidditch cup. Rather, she decreed that while the season had been cut extremely short, the two teams with the most wins would compete in a championship game during a day listed as a holiday, the whole school being required to attend. Well, the whole school except for Harry and Filch, who had him, scrubbing the wooden floor of his office with a brick and some sand. Harry didn't mind though, for he found out afterwards that the Gryffindor team, with Ron as captain and Ginny filling his old spot of Seeker had played a hard game, and won…

Luna and Hermione came up with idea of striking back at Fudge and Umbridge in a most spectacular fashion. Malfoy and his squad had slowly become rather sloppy in their dealings with Harry, often losing him if he spent a great deal of time just walking about in Hogsmeade. Harry had tried this tactic out several times, and like clockwork the people Malfoy had tailing him often wound up tiring of chasing him through alley ways, in and out of Madam Rosemerta's pub and the Hog's multiple times, and back and forth from the school. Harry discovered the best time to do it was on a Saturday, when Malfoy had only his two goons Crabbe and Goyle following. While he was tempted to lose them and go for a tryst with Gin, he didn't, as the first lesson of poker he had learned was not to play against a stacked deck, which was what the current situation looked like.

Instead, one Saturday, he lost the two morons in Hogsmeade, and then made a beeline to the Hog's Head. He had traded his school robes in the basement of the candy store for a set of voluminous ragged robes. Since it was late in the evening, and rainy to boot, no one had paid him much mind as he made his way to a meeting with Luna, Hermione, and Rita Skeeter, his 'favorite' witch reporter. She had been about as happy to see him as he was with her, but she had been eager for a story, and Harry had long viewed Fudge, Umbridge, and others as much of an enemy as Voldemort and his crew. Harry had told all, no longer caring if people thought him a goddamn lunatic (which he had the sneaky suspicion was about most of the school based on the looks they gave him), told all. The Triwizard Tournament, young Crouch and how Fudge covered up the evidence by silencing him with a Dementor, the real story of the attack on the Broomsticks, and of the whole messy affair in February that left Harry in captivity for about four days, until a long-shot rescue operation mounted by his uncle brought him back…Albeit at the cost of Alex Evans, MM, being missing since.

Harry had felt a bit of relief getting the story off his chest, though he did have some misgivings, wondering if by revealing a glimpse into the secret war waged at the peripheries of wizard society he was hurting the effort of others who fought in the shadows. Yet, judging by how far Fudge and his cronies had their heads up their respective anal orifices, he couldn't possibly do any worse. As for himself, he was about fed up with Umbridge, and really didn't care anymore what happened to him. If he was thrown out, then so be it…After all, once that happened he would be what his uncle considered himself to be when he rescued Harry: a man with nothing left to lose.

It proved to be a moot point though. Skeeter's article, appearing in _The Quibbler_, Luna's father's newspaper, became, thanks to Harry's article and some rather unsuccessful attempts by the Fudge administration to silence it, the most read newspaper in all of Great Britain and Ireland. Luna gleefully told Harry that every time Fudge called him a crazed fool it sold another ten thousand copies. Despite the censorship of the mail going into the school, enough copies made their way around that they were the most talked about news items in the school. Umbridge didn't throw Harry out of the school for his remarks; instead having him write in blood several thousand times that he was a liar using a black quill. Harry thought the old bat must have received orders from Fudge not to have him thrown out, as doing that would merely feed more fuel to the fire he had created, though he did find his latest punishment a bit humorous in a dark sort of way. After all, did Umbridge really believe that a little cut (albeit one in the words 'I am a liar') would faze a man who had been cut, bleed and burned by a real torturers, not some rank amateur bully?

She also put a ban on reading the article from the moment it had appeared in the papers, but all that did was prevent Malfoy and his people from doing anything to him. After all, Hermione pointed out, how could they know what Harry said when they themselves weren't allowed to read the article? Harry appreciated that, and likewise appreciated things a bit more when people no longer looked at him as though he were Jack the bloody Ripper. A final bonus came when he found out that Malfoy had been caught by Cho Chang fucking around with some other women, and they had had a hell of a row in the Library. It had ended up with both having detention from the Librarian, and neither seeing each other.

In April, things got worse. The twins, one fine evening in the middle of the school week, were caught after they had set off a really spectacular series of fireworks. Apparently, neither the Headmistress nor Filch had found it too amusing when a series of 'fire-breathing dragons' had rampaged throughout the hallways, causing mass chaos. To ice it off the twins had cast something that turned the main hallway in front of the staircase into a giant, water-logged bog. Filch, Umbridge, and assorted Inquisitorial Squad personnel chased them through the school, cornering them in the Great Hall, where before a growing crowd of students, Umbridge had told the twins that they would receive the same punishment as Potter for their crimes against the school. Fred and George hadn't thought too much of it, instead pulling a trick out of Harry's book by summoning their brooms from the lock-up in Umbridge's office, and flying off into the night.

That was, of course, after they had told Peeves to give Umbridge hell…And after they had cached an unknown, but most assuredly large number of joke materials throughout the school. Neither of the twins may have received the marks, but when it came to practical usage in Potions or engineering, they had no equals. Hogwarts was a scene of constant chaos and disorder, as the combination of student chaos (everybody, it seemed, wanted to pick up the twin's legacy of mischief-making) and Peeve's hell-raising ensured everybody was on edge. The pace only slackened prank-wise as OWLs loomed closer, and even Peeves scaled back on the chaos he produced, settling down to usually bothering Umbridge.

It would have been humorous to Harry, were it not for the fact that instead of having the time to sit back and smell the flowers that were blooming as winter gave way to spring, he found himself having to constantly cracking the books, easily putting in sixteen hours days of study and class-work. Snape, of course, kept up his usual regimen of belittlement, and seeing to it that Harry received some of the lowest grades in Potions in the history of Hogwarts. The others merely crammed as much as they could into the tired minds of Harry and his peers, McGonagall emphasizing on a daily basis how important they were….

"So the son-of-a-bitch walks in just as she grabs my wang, and it snowballed from there." Doc shook his head, and tossed back his glass, filled with about a quarter ways with a clear, liquid. Harry, bottle of ale in hand, was snickering and pretty soon laughing. It was a Friday night; everybody in the bloody school had taken off for a major, pre-OWL and pre-NEWT party in the Three Broomsticks. Everyone that is, except for Doc, Harry, and Snape, who had put his 'favorite' student to a late-night detention of cleaning the potions equipment by hand. Doc, really looking forward to carousing Hogsmeade with Harry and company, and stood up and used a few choice words about Snape's conduct. Snape had rewarded his usage of his right to free speech by promptly having him share the punishment.

That had been in the morning. Now, at almost nine at night, having missed dinner, and tired from having to scrub out a series of cauldrons and beakers, Doc and Harry had decided to get smashed big-time. Doc had broken out a vile drink called Soju, a Korean form of vodka distilled from rice husks to a clear liquid…Mixed with a generous helping of formaldehyde. Harry had used the book of liquor Alex had given him and pulled out a ten bottle case of ale. That had been about an hour ago, and Harry was dusting the last of the ale off.

Sitting around, ties and shirts loosened, shoes off, they had spent the better part of the evening so far drinking and telling their stories, 'shooting the shit' as Doc put it. Doc had brought out his charmed CD player, and they were listening to some 80s as he related about the time he had been about to get some hand action when a teacher had walked in on them during a school party. Doc was more upset that he had been caught and missed out on some action then his punishment of being sent as an exchange student to Hogwarts.

"Let me guess, you thought you were going to pull some serious action when you came here, right?" Harry asked his rather inebriated American comrade. Doc gave a goofy grin, and nodded his head enthusiastically.

"You've watched too much porno, my friend." Harry replied dryly as he drained his ale and threw bottle back into the cardboard case with the others.

Doc laughed, and then his face got a bit more serious…

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"You mind if I ask a bit of a personal question?"

"What's that?"

"You mind if I try to get into Chang's pants?"

Harry had just taken a shot of soju, and it burned real bad as he choked it down. It took him a minute, a minute in which Doc looked at him, a sly smile on his face.

"Uh…"

"C'mon, Harry, I thought you ditched the bitch?"

"I did, just why the fuck would you want to touch the slag after she's been fucking Malfoy up, down and sideways for the better part of the year?" Not that he cared, Harry reminded himself. His only interest was sort of angle Doc was playing.

Doc was leering now, "Well, I've always held the more experienced the woman, the more you'll learn. All I want is a piece, and Cho seems to be pretty handy."

"Not that I care if you shag and bag the slag, but why not make a pass at Lovegood? Settle down with a nice girl? Hell look at her name, man!" Harry wasn't sure why he said that, but Doc shrugged it off. "Nah, I taint ready for a serious relationship, and I respects Luna too much to make a pass of that sort." Harry could hear his friend was pretty drunk, and judging by the way he was feeling, so was he.

Doc looked down his glass, and then up. His eyes were gleaming, and Harry hung his head and shook it slowly. The bastard was going to do something, their recent discussion put on hold…

"Thunder-run." Doc raised his glass of rot-gut and slugged it back. Harry was privately surprised that neither was gone from alcohol poisoning or cirrhosis or something else equally pleasant. At the same time, he also wondered if raising hell in the town of Hogsmeade. Looking at his nearly full bottle of ale, Harry wondered about sipping it, and stay put, letting Dumb-ass there go about pushing his luck to the limit.

Then he laughed, and guzzled his ale in one long chug.

"Oi! Oi!" Harry and Doc were running like madmen, chanting in tune to AC/DC's TNT that was blaring from Doc's CD player. Doc stumbled over the hem of his black robe, and fell on his ass. Harry stopped, and called him a wanker. Doc responded by giving him the finger, bellowing the appropriate words, and then took off again, this time running to the tune of some Rolling Stones. Harry thought of his godfather, and wondered if his uncle liked Paint It Black as much as he did. Pulling out the ugly green glass bottle with its Chinese character, Harry took another slug of soju as him and his rather drunk friend continued their approach to Hogsmeade. He had vague idea that everybody would be at the Three-Broomsticks. It might not be a good idea to go there considering his current situation, but Harry and Doc were riding a drunk real proper.

Besides, Doc had pulled out his wizards diplomatic passport, which he said would prevent him from getting into any trouble so long as he didn't kill anybody. Harry were trusting that if something serious occurred, Doc would wave it around and get them out of the shit, though he was a bit leery. Wondering why he hadn't used it before, especially in conjunction with the twins, Harry had asked him. Doc had replied by throwing a brotherly arm over Harry's shoulder, and telling him that he thought it was pretty fucking bad that he was being screwed over by Snape and the powers that be. Detibedeux's headmaster had told him to use the diplomatic credentials only in an emergency, but he figured now was as good a time as any.

Harry was touched, and they made their way down the main drag. With the way they were walking, and the fact they were blaring various rock and pop out from Doc's CD player ensured they got more then a few weird glances. Both found the expressions they were receiving as quite amusing, and were soon laughing like a pair of hyenas with rabies. Reaching the Three Broomsticks, Harry could hear the sounds of a piano, laughter, care-free happiness. Pleased, he turned the handle and pushed. Sure enough, the place was over-flowing with students in their robes, cases of Butterbeer being consumed, with a square, boxy piano being played in the corner. Doc and Harry strode in, and took a look around. Everyone seemed to be happy. Harry's world started to spin, and he knew it probably hadn't been a good idea to mix beer and soju. Spotting an empty chair, he looked sat and squinted. It seemed to help, making things stop, putting them into perspective.

There was Neville, sitting in a booth nursing a bottle of butterbeer with Katrina on his lap. Luna and Doc were chatting away in front of the booth, as Doc had tossed his CD player on the table, Pop Goes the World by Men Without Hats over taking the piano. Ron and Hermione and Ginny were across from the happy couple, and Harry waved to them when he saw them glance at him. He supposed they must have been shocked, as to the best of his knowledge this was probably the first time they had seen him pissed…

Harry watched as Ron said something to Ginny. Ginny got up and was walking towards him across the crowded, no doubt because she and his other friends saw how fucked up he had become. Harry sometimes wondered himself if mentally he had gotten worse after he had come back. One doesn't take lives, gets brutalized, and possibly watched the death of just about his only blood relative and come out with either a sound body or a sound mind. Leaning back, Harry let his guard down a bit, giving a beaming smile to his lady love. Ginny smirked and shook her head. Harry tilted his chair so that it stood on the back legs, content that maybe, just maybe, nothing too exciting would happen…

Or maybe he was just drunk as Malfoy sneeringly came up to Ginny, saying something that he couldn't hear over the music. Ginny turned to him, and Harry could see her eyes were blazing in a fury. That made him angry, which was why he got up so fast the chair he had been using clattered to the ground. Stepping forward, Harry was debating whether or not to hit Malfoy in the face or the small of his back (which would ensure he pissed blood for a week if he timed it right) when Doc stepped forward. Malfoy wasn't amused and appeared to be about ready to say something when Doc showed him his diplomatic passport. Malfoy scowled now, and looked as though he were going to say something, again, when he was interrupted again. This time, Doc suddenly turned as green as the piping on Malfoy's robes, and hurled what looked solid stream of vomit right into Malfoy's clothes.

Ginny took a step back, and everyone seemed to watch as Doc retched all over Malfoy, who stood there shocked at what had happened. Harry laughed, sides hurting, bellowing laugh that he hadn't laughed since Alex had gone missing as he realized that all was right in the world, and maybe there was justice out there after all.


	37. Chapter XXXVII: Balloons Rising

Disclaimer: See Chapter I

A/N: A reviewer said the Gryffindors wouldn't have watched Harry get caned, that they would have done something about it…Hate to say it pal, but in cannon they accepted similar. Unless of course you would consider getting your hand carved with a sharp object a lesser punishment.

Oh, and when I call something an ammo can, I'm referring to the green metal cases in which small-arms ammunition and grenades are packed in.

Good news: There will be three chapters after this, and I have sequel planned describing the 6th year. As you all know my penchant of putting the real world (warts and all) in the Wizard universe, it will continue to be so after I read a fascinating book by Mark Bowden (he wrote Black Hawk Down) called Killing Pablo. Great book describing the joint Columbian US manhunt for a drug cartel leader who was terrorizing Columbia in the early 90s.

Finally, I'm going to admit I made an error, a big one that I'm afraid I won't be able to correct until the fall (my computer is in storage right now, and with it all the hard copies of each chapter from 34 onwards): it seems Ginny is for Ginevra, not Virginia like I thought. Hell, like pretty much everybody thought for that matter. Anyhow, on with the show, and pretend that you saw Ginevra as opposed to Virginia mentioned from here on out. At least for a couple of months…Though when I took a count of the number of times that error need be corrected I only found one instance, so thank heaven for small favors.

**Chapter XXXVII: Balloons Rising**

Harry shook his head, and stared down at his parchment. In his right hand he tapped his quill and stretched his neck. It was the last day of OWLS and Harry wanted nothing more then for the fucking things to be done. His head was starting to ache from the tests, and his eyes burned after not sleeping too well after the previous evening's Astronomy test. So far the OWLs hadn't been as hard as he thought they would be, but the years of damage done by a mediocre teacher in the history department were taking their toil.

Harry yawned, and tried to concentrate, but couldn't. The previous evening, Umbridge had decided it would be a good idea to try and get rid of Hagrid as apparently the initial dragnet thrown by Umbridge's goon squad had missed him back in February. Doubtless it had had something to do with him actually following the Ministry's guidelines on teaching Care of Magical Creatures, but nevertheless it wasn't enough for Umbridge to just let him be. A bit belated, and ill-timed perhaps, but Harry's studies of muggle history had shown even stupider things to have happened in history, and Umbridge's move was just one such play.

Regardless, Hagrid was now a wanted fugitive after beating the shit out of three Ministry wizards Umbridge had dug up, and Umbridge looked like a fool. Unfortunately, the foolish bit included Professor McGonagall, for a bit of fratricide had taken place when the snarling witch had taken four Stunners to the chest. Last Harry had heard, she was in the Infirmirary under intensive care…

_Don't think of that, just finish the fucking test._ Harry thought to himself as he started scribbling some rubbish onto his paper about some rather worthless and pointless treaty of magic sometime in the Middle Ages. All around him he could hear the scribble of quills upon parchment, all the other fifth years scratching away. Harry could see that Neville and Ron were hard at work, both frowning as they doubtless tried to put together a reasonable essay on whatever topic they had been given. Turning his head slightly, Harry could see Hermione was well into essay, and already seemed to be nearly complete…

Harry felt his eyes flutter, drowsy…_A little nap won't kill me_, he thought as he rested his eyes…

Darkness and a fog followed by a sensation that he was dropping…To his horror it was the scene of the crime, the same cavernous room with its bookcases, orbs glowing softly. This time though, there were two shapes crawling on the ground. Harry felt horror grow like a ball in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he walked over to the figures on the floor, and Harry recognized them…and fear mixed in with the horror.

One was dressed in the ragged filthy remains of a British Army uniform, dripping wet, as though somebody had dumped a bunch of water to clean the filth off of him. Somebody had also shaved him badly, for his face was a host of minor little nicks and cuts. Nonetheless, Harry could recognize the face, with the empty eye socket, and the grin still plastered on his face, even though it was obvious he was malnourished, thin as a rail, in pain from the broken teeth and countless other wounds. Alex…

The other figure Harry had last seen and spoken to before he had been captured. Face bleeding from a gash on his forehead, arms tied behind him the way Alex's were, his face creased with pain. The rank odor of urine and shit and copper were heavy in the air, and Harry heard himself speak. "So you have finally decided to join us, Black. I was wondering when you would find the mudblood here." Alex raised his head, and attempted to sit up but failed. Both Alex and Sirius were having trouble breathing, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to notice that they had been tortured rather bloody.

It also would have taken a blind man to notice that both men radiated a feeling of defiance; they may have been beaten bloody physically, yet mentally they were still fighting.

"Now, remove the orb…Black, Evans…" The voice sounded amused, and Harry felt fear course through his veins. It was the same it had been in his nightmares, his visions, and during that night the year before. The same voice that haunted his thoughts when he was unawares…

"Lord Voldemort is coming…" Harry approached the two prostrate bodies, laughing in his cold voice. The fear in his stomach was spreading, feeling as though someone was grabbing his stomach and squeezing from the inside-out, yet with it was excitement, anticipation…

Harry looked into the eyes of Sirius Black. Black's face was stretched taught with pain, pale as a sheet, and covered with running drops of blood, yet the eyes blazed with defiance.

"Do as I command, Black. Evans seems rather feeble at the moment."

"You'll have to kill me before…" Whatever else he was going to say went unsaid as he gasped and grimaced in pain.

"Indeed, I will more then likely do just that for you, but first I'll ensure you become rather familiar with the feeling of pain, pain that you have never felt before, and beyond any that you can possibly imagine." Voldemort laughed then, and Harry heard him yell Crucio. Sirius screamed and writhed in agony on the ground. The stench of urine assailed his nose as Sirius pissed himself. The dark lord was laughing, and Sirius's screaming was rising in volume…

Harry felt himself on a stone floor. Above him was one of the OWL proctors, a wizard named Tofty, who asked him anxiously, "Are you all right?" Harry felt himself covered in a cold sweat, and his eyes darted around. The classroom swam, and he shook his head, "Just a bit dizzy, had a bad dream when I dozed off for a bit…"

"It's all right, Mister Potter. Things like this happen. We'll get you a drink of water, and some chocolate and you can finish your…"

"Sir, I'm just about done. May I turn it in and just go lay down?"

Tofty took a look at his parchment, shrugged, and replied, "As you wish, young man." Harry got up from the stone floor and hurriedly signed his name on the scroll. Walking out of the classroom, his mind was churning: thinking, processing, analyzing, plotting…Once again, he had that feeling he was observing, as opposed to controlling, the information that was going through his brain. That around him more then a few of his classmates were looking at him with their usual curiosity, wondering what madness he was in now; then were those he counted as friends and Harry knew they weren't staring at him like a freak side-show.

Harry walked quickly out of the Great Hall, and sprinted up the stairs to the Infirmirary. Bursting in, he saw Madam Pomfrey and asked to see Professor McGonagall. That wasn't possible as she had been transferred to St.Mungo's for treatment. Harry nodded, and raced out down the stairs, his mind in overdrive. Part of him noticed Hermione and Ron, and his mind registered the fact one of them had spoken to him, yet he moved quickly, almost running. One thought and one thought was on his mind by this time. Ever since he had come to on the floor of the Great Hall, he had been considering a course of action that he was coming to realize was the final option. Indeed the only option…

Barking the password, the entrance to the Gryffindor tower opened, and Harry strode in rapidly. The common room was largely deserted save for Doc, who had undergone the WATs (Wizarding Aptitude Tests) the previous night, and hadn't come back until one in the morning. As a result, he had been given the day off since all the material the Hogwarts students were tested on in the OWLs was tested by the Americans in a brutal eighteen hour period. Needless to say, the effect was exhausting to the test-taker as theory and practice exams (writing and practice) were conducted.

Doc was kicked back in his favorite chair near the fireplace, his shoes off, and watching a scroll charmed to play a muggle movie. Feet propped up on the coffee table, Doc had a bottle of Butterbeer and a bag of crisps next to his chair.

"Out of order, I'll show you out of order!" Doc was watching a favorite of his: Scent of a Woman, and Al Pacino was raising hell as the blind Colonel Slade.

"Doc," Harry was making an effort to control his breathing, his guts and brains working overtime. "Where's the armory?" Despite himself, Harry knew that he was flapping big-time, and that it was showing in his face and body language. The body language was the fact Harry's hands were shaking, and he was pale as

Doc looked up, and tossed his scroll aside. He could tell Harry was pretty upset, which meant that if he was asking for the muggle weaponry they had stashed…Jumping up, he pushed aside the coffee table and the rug beneath it. Squatting, he took out his wand and tapped one of the stones that formed the floor of the common room. Harry watched as the stones rose and folded up like a sliding door, and peered into the cavity opened. Inside, taking up the entire chamber, appeared to be a large aluminum crate, the top of which was hinged to opened and locked with a built in lock. Doc removed a dog tag chain from his neck, on which hung a small brass key. Leaning over, he unlocked the top of the container, and flipped open the top. Harry looked over his shoulder and looked into it. Obviously, he had used the same technique Moody had used with his trunk to create a large room within the floor of the common room. Neatly organized, Harry saw eight CAR-15s (judging by the green tape on the butt, each was the personal weapon of him, Nev, Doc, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina), another eight pistols (including his own Browning), ammunition and explosives in cans, and other assorted material he had had stashed for the Muggle Self-Defense Club. Yet, this was only…

"Sorry, but the rest is scattered around the school grounds. The only reason this is here is in case…"

It was then Hermione and Ron burst into the common room, breathless as they had run after him. "Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione gasped. As quickly as he could, he informed them of his dream. "Look's like someone is going to have to go get them." Harry concluded, his mind trying to find solutions to the problems. Firepower? Check. Transportation? That would be a kicker, but doubtless…

It was then he noticed that his two oldest and closet friends were looking at him open-mouthed. Doc, too had stopped what he was doing and was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. "Right, any ideas on how we're going to get there?" Ron stuttered, "Get there?" Harry frowned, "Yeah, now think. No brooms, the gobos took the cars with them…"

"Harry, how did he, Voldemort, get into the Ministry?"

"What? How the fuck should I know, all I know is that they're there!"

"Harry, think of it this way: its five in the afternoon, the Ministry has to be full of workers getting ready to leave. Somebody would have noticed, Harry! Do you think Sirius and Voldemort and your uncle could get into a building crawling with Aurors and other wizards without being caught? The three most wanted wizards in all of England?"

Harry took a deep breath, held it, and stared Hermione in the face. Of all the things he hadn't expected this… "Listen, how do we not know that the Ministry is still in friendly hands? Have you thought of that?"

Now it was her turn to look confused as Harry continued. "For all we know, Voldemort may have made his move now. A roll of the dice, a gamble let's say." Harry got up, and started pacing, his head bent forward as he began visualizing the scenario. "True, Fudge has been pretty much giving the bastard what he wants anyway, but he nonetheless can't cross several boundaries. At the same time, those that back Fudge are either Death Eaters or sympathizers…" He stopped and looked up at his friend, "Power play, Hermione. The bastard is attempting to pull a coup."

"Harry…" His best friend looked torn nervous about something…Harry wasn't sure if he liked this or not.

"What, now!"

"Harry, you do realize that you have a…"

"A what?" Harry was starting to get frustrated, as every second they wasted meant pain, blood…and the increasing likely hood neither of the two would be alive if, once, he did something about it.

"A saving people's thing that could be used against you," Hermione got out. This puzzled him, and his confusion must have been evident on evident on his face as Hermione, her voice trembling, expounded her theory. During the Triwizard Tournament, during all the years past, he had always been…

"Playing the hero, Hermione?" Harry had heard Snape say it a few times, and it had stung. Now that one of his friends was saying it…

Ron joined in this time. "Well, you didn't really think Dumbledore would let us die last year during the second…"

Harry didn't let his best friend finish, as he replied back, "I don't recall you having a problem with this when it was Ginny that needed to be rescued."

Ron grimaced, "I never said I had a problem with it!"

"But you think it's a problem, though?" Ron realized what he said, and shut his mouth. Turning back to Hermione, Harry glared at her and opened his mouth. Just as he was about to say something, Luna and Ginny walked in. Ginny took a look at Doc with a rifle in his hand, the way her brother and his girlfriend appeared to be squared off against each, and asked what was going on. The moment she had appeared, Harry's already overworked mind and fears that he had been hiding in the back of his mind came forth when he turned and answered that it was none of her business. Ginny wasn't amused, and demanded to know what was going on.

Luna noted smiling that Harry was being rude.

Harry shut his eyes, and (in what was starting to become a habit of his), took several deep breaths, and was about to explain things when Nev and Katrina came in. Neville took one look at the weapons being brought out, and quickly demanded in. Harry quickly explained what had happened, what he saw, and what he thought was happening. Neville frowned in concentration, as Harry went over to the armory, and removed his carbine. "Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.

Harry paused as he made sure the chamber was clear, and looked over at his friends, "I'm going to bring back those I love."

"Harry, please listen to me…" Harry exploded when he heard that. Throwing his weapon like a basketball to Neville (who barely caught it and almost dropped it from the force) he spoke to his friends, "No, you listen to me. I count four reasons to risk my life and if need be lose it for. First, you, my friends, all of you." Harry waved his hand to encompass them all. "Second, my uncle. Third, my Godfather, and fourth, someone you don't need to know about quite yet." Staring at them, he spoke quietly, "Alex went through a lot to get me back, and even if it is a trap as you suggested, Hermione, then I got no choice but to spring it and hope for the best." His eyes hardened, "I will not, can not, abandon one of only two blood relations I have worth a damn right now

"Harry, I never called you to abandon him…" Hermione's eyes were shocked that he suggested it. She continued, "Let's try and contact Sirius through the Floo in Umbridge's office. We can confirm if that is real or not, and if need be call in backup." Doc added his two pence worth, "Harry, we're going to need a bit more timber if we have to launch a rescue. You do understand that, right?" Harry mulled over the decision, and nodded reluctantly.

"All right, but Neville and Doc," He pointed his fingers at them, "start loading ammo into the magazines and the magazines into the belt kits and bandoliers. The rest of you, any ideas?"

Harry quickly leaned around the corner, and leaned back. The coast was clear, and he could hear Ginny telling some people that a prank involving Garroting Gas had occurred near the stairs. Ron had gone off to report to the Headmistress that Peeves was raising hell, again. This coupled with Ginny and the other two girls telling the student body that a firework with a rather lethal chemical cargo had been detonated should give him all the chaos and distraction he needed.

Hermione nudged him, and he nodded. Sprinting, his robes flying, he didn't bother trying to see if the door was open, using his foot instead on the doorknob. The door shuddered and flew away from him as Harry, his foot aching where it had connected with brass through the thin leather of his shoes, ran to the fireplace and threw in the handful of blue Floo powder he used for secure communications. Ever since the bitch had taken power, he had had to keep his supply hidden and hadn't had much chance to use it. Indeed, the only fireplace still on the network (the others in the common rooms had long since been shut down) was located in Umbridge's class-room.

"Black residence," Harry all but yelled into the fire as he thrust his head in. Slowly, he felt a feeling of unease as he recognized the room he was in as that of the main hall of the Black house. It was dark, gloomy, few of the lamps were on, and the ones that were only cast a dim glow that really highlighted the elf heads mounted on the walls of the house. Quickly, he began calling out names, his stomach hurting as he bellowed out the names…Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, anybody…

"The head of the Potter-boy is in the fire. Kreacher wonders what he is doing here." Harry saw the bent, shambling figure of the aged house-elf Kreacher come into view. Not wasting a breath, Harry demanded, "Where's Sirius, Kreacher?"

Kreacher's eyes gleamed, "The master has gone out, Harry Potter."

"Where is he, Kreacher?"

Kreacher cackled, and Harry asked another question, hoping to get some sort of response out of him. "Is Mad-Eye there? Or Remus or Tonks or Dumbledore?"

"Kreacher is here all alone, Harry Potter." The elf was laughing now, his voice high-pitched, sing-song in tone. Harry felt his frustrations start to reach the boiling point. Asking the elf if his master had gone to the Department of Mysteries, the elf replied that his master never confided in him of his destinations.

"You know where he is, Kreacher? He's at the Department of Mysteries, isn't he Kreacher?" Harry knew he was starting to flap big time, that he was committing the worst sin anybody with the power of life-death decisions could make, but he couldn't help it. Panic had set in, and coupled with his rage and frustration God knew what was going to happen.

Kreacher gave a high-pitched cackle, and Harry heard him say, "The master shall never return from the Department of Mysteries. It will only be Kreacher and his mistress again." Harry's world went red, and he would have made an attempt at doing something, anything if it wasn't for the fact he felt as though his testicles had been knocked out of his scrotum and into his stomach. Curling into a ball, and moaning loudly, Harry felt a pair of hands drag him out of the fireplace and turn him over. Above him was the smug, grinning face of Draco Malfoy, his wand pointed right at Harry's face.

"Hello, Potter" Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of him, and both dragged him to his feet, his arms pinned to his sides. Umbridge, Parkinson, that masculine cow Bullstrode, and Theodore Nott were herding in Luna, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron into the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Umbridge was smiling the same smile he had last seen the day he had been forced to use the Black Quill. Harry grimaced, as his groin hurt, and hurt bad, and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do about it as the only goal in his life at the moment was to try and get past the stage of thinking past the pain in his crotch.

Umbridge came up to him, and demanded to know just whom he was contacting. Harry kept his mouth shut, and stared her down. For her part, Umbridge started yelling and screaming, that he was in collusion with Dumbledore and the half-breed who had attacked her last night. Harry almost laughed in her face, and would have if his friends weren't there, as Umbridge's ramblings had a drop of spittle hanging out of her mouth.

It was then everybody's favorite Potions instructor strode into the room, a dark, greasy, malevolent cloud that acted as though it owned the place. He gazed at the students being held against their will by the Headmistress, and asked just why he was being called in. Umbridge demanded that he give her a vial of Veritaserum, so that she could glean the truth from Harry. Snape had glared at her, informing her icily that she shouldn't have wasted it the previous month during her interrogation of Potter in the DADA classroom. Harry breathed a little easier, glad to know that his suspiciouns of the bitch trying to drug him were correct.

Umbridge, upset at this latest development, asked what options were available. Snape informed her of poison, and how it was going to take him a while to produce a viable poison that would act at a pace acceptable for their needs. The Headmistress found the situation unacceptable, and yelled at him that he was still under probation and investigation himself. Snape didn't deign to give an answer, only turn around and proceed towards the door. Harry saw his chance, and took it, yelling that Padfoot was captured in the place he had seen during the winter.

Snape knew what he was taking about, as Alex had told Harry that Snape was one of those in the know about Harry's visions during the winter break. Harry gambled that he was still in communication, somehow, with the Order, and even though he was in a world of shit right now would know what he was talking about. Snape had stopped, and looked at him, his face an expressionless mask. Harry hoped that he could read his mind, and the thoughts and images he had seen he remembered.

Umbridge interjected, demanding to know just what he was talking about. Snape acidly informed him that he didn't wish to hear his babbling and left. Harry didn't know if the bastard was merely putting on a show for Umbridge and company, or if he genuinely thought Harry was babbling. Once again, he started to panic, as he was unarmed, and surrounded by an enemy with no angles to work in his favor…

Umbridge simplified things for him. Pointing her wand at him, she haltingly spoke of emergency powers offered to her under an emergency decree from the Minister of Magic. Umbridge demanded that he talk, else she would be forced to the Cruciatus. Harry laughed in her face then and there. To a man who had spent half a week watching his flesh bleed and burn, and hear himself scream and piss and shit himself when the pain got so bad...Cruciatus did not bother him in the least. Moody said the pain was greater then that of the muggle torture he had endured. Only thing he had forgotten to mention was that the muggle torture stayed with you, aching afterwards for what seemed like a lifetime. The Cruciatus lingered for a few moments, but disappeared over time a lot quicker.

His insane cackling was what saved him. Umbridge hesitated, and Harry could feel every pair of eyes on him, thinking him insane. Hermione saved him, telling her that she was going to tell her everything. She told, in a teary voice with many pauses to the Headmistress, that Dumbledore had had them creating a weapon, a weapon to use against the Ministry. Umbridge kept her attentions on Hermione; here was the Holy Grail, the goal for which she had been striving so hard to find ever since Dumbledore had made Fudge and the rest of the Ministry look like a bunch of bumbling idiots in the Infirmirary when Harry had been brought back.

Hermione claimed they had been trying every method of contacting the Headmaster, to let him know that their project was complete, and ready to be used. Umbridge was frothing at the mouth when she heard this, and demanded that she be shown the weapon. Hermione agreed, but said she was only willing to show it to Umbridge alone. Malfoy fucked up by looking too greedy, too much like himself and not some simpering boot-licker during the interrogation, so Umbridge wound up ordering him and the Inquisitorial Squad to watch the others while she took had Hermione lead her to the weapon. To ensure her cooperation, Umbridge took Harry with her as well, both of their wands in her pocket, and her own wand trained on Harry's back. Ron looked pretty upset that people were threatening both his best friend and the girl he loved, and when he started yelling and making such a fuss that Malfoy slammed him into a full body bind. Ginny avoided Harry's eyes, and Harry did likewise. Deep inside, Harry had a sinking feeling in the base of his stomach, the same kind he had had before the Third Task last year, when he had gone into the Whomping Willow in his third year, when him and Ron had nabbed Lockheart during their second year, and when it looked like Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone back when he was a fresh-faced eleven-year old.

Hermione lead them out of the school and deep into the Forbidden Forrest. Umbridge demanded to know where the weapon was, to hurry up and get them there. Slowly Harry realized the game his friend was playing and stayed alert, ready to make a move when Hermione's play went into action. He was desperately for a weapon, anything, be it a twig, sharp stone, anything at this stage of the game.

Umbridge tripped over a branch, as they were going cross-country, well off the beaten paths within the forests. Harry had a vague idea that Hermione was leading them in circles, and it seemed the idea had also occurred to Umbridge as well. Getting up, she demanded that Hermione show here the weapon immediately or else she would have to…

Everything went by real fast after that. Harry was knocked down, and then felt a pair of strong hands lift him effortlessly into the air. Somehow, his glasses were still on his head, and he saw that he was held in the arms of a centaur. A centaur with a bow, and a quiver of arrows on his back, all around him were other centaurs. Harry felt his heart start to race, as all of them were armed, and he had heard that when Bladvak, Ironhammer and Moody had lead the dwarves and goblins in a ground search of the Forbidden Forrest the centaurs had been very, very hostile.

Harry spotted a crude, flint-like blade in the belt of the centaur carrying him. Keeping his eye on it, Harry knew he would have only one chance to get it, for the centaur was holding him close enough to feel his body heat, and close enough that Harry was willing to bet his life he could snatch the blade without being caught. Truth was, he was probably going to have do just that.

The centaurs unceremoniously dumped him, Hermione, and Umbridge to the ground once they reached the clearing. Harry grasped the blade as he fell, and when he hit the ground he rolled on to his stomach, moving the blade (point horizontal to the ground) into the voluminous sleeve of his black robe. Cupping his wrist, he got up on one knee and watched with detached emotions what happened next. Umbridge had to open her big mouth, and start ranting and raving of the authority of the Ministry of Magic. She had further exacerbated the situation by pointing her wand in what she thought was an intimidating manner at the Centaurs, and called them a bunch of beasts.

Harry could smell the fear on her, and knew that she both literally and figuratively lacked the balls to bluff them out of this situation. Hermione was pushed over to Harry, as the Centaurs knocked down Umbridge, and threw her into the air. She was screaming as they caught her, and passed her down a chain of hands further into the forest. A distant part of Harry could hear her screaming, but he blanked that part out, waiting, his nerves on end for the right moment to make his move. His fingers curled, gently but firmly, around the hemp covered handle of the stone blade. On the ground, in front of him and Hermione, were their wands, but they were blocked by two centaurs.

The two centaurs turned their attentions to Hermione and Harry. Harry recognized one of them from his first year at Hogwarts as Ronan, the other was given the name of Magorian, and he silently listened to them talk of dealing with them harshly, even though they were 'foals'. The younger one, Magorian, said Harry was almost a man grown, and should be treated in such manner. Hermione didn't help any either, as she said something to set them off. Magorian was yelling something about beasts, and the centaur race being treated unfairly by the wizard world. Hermione was getting flustered big-time, and Harry moved closer to the obnoxious centaur. Unable to spot an opportunity, Harry decided it was now or never.

Harry's eye grew cold, as he sneered out, "Don't waste your breath talking to them, Hermione. Apparently they don't realize that there are worse things then being called the beasts that they are." Magorian lost, as he threw himself over Harry, pinning him down on to the ground perpendicular to Magorian's torso. Magorian barked at Harry, "Before you pay the penalty for trespassing on our land, what is worse then how you treat us?" Harry smiled, a smile utterly devoid of mirth, and filled with cruelty. "Being a gelding for example…Horse."

With that Harry slid the blade he had kept hidden in his torso, and slammed it into the Magorian's horse-like genitalia. Harry heard a scream, but he pushed the blade deeper into the centaur's flesh, and then ripped it downwards. The flint must have been pretty sharp, for it felt like he was pushing a hot butter knife into a stick of margarine. An artery must have been hit, for blood started flowing out like a broken sprinkler as the centaur reared up and then fell to the ground. Harry could hear him sobbing, but the other centaurs were either in shock by the speed of his attack, or were too busy doing whatever they were doing to Umbridge.

Reeking of the copper stench of Magorian's blood, Harry rolled over to the wands, and tossed over Hermione's over to her. She was staring at Harry's blood-stained countenance, her mouth open and imitating Ron's. Harry ignored her for the moment, getting up and firing stunners left and right. One, two, three of the bastards were knocked down, but Harry knew that they were outnumbered. Harry knew he was fairly proficient, and so was Hermione, but weight of numbers would smash them down, and judging by the blood Magorian was spilling Harry didn't think they were going to show him much mercy for castrating one of their own.

His back to Hermione's, Harry grimaced and scowled at the enemy's surrounding him. They were still trying to digest the fact two very young wizards had maimed one of their own, and knocked down another three. Harry knew they were in shock, but it would only be a matter of minutes until…

A rumble, and a tremor in the ground, Harry looked around. The centaurs seemed to be wondering what was going on, and then the trees around them opened up as Hagrid's brother Grawp burst in, and started punching and throwing centaurs around left and right. Harry watched as a hole opened up, as the centaurs around them scattered to evade the adolescent giant's rage, which Harry supposed had something to do with finding Hagrid judging by the way he was yelling about Hagger.

Grabbing one of Hermione's arms, Harry dragged her through the churning, panicking mass of centaurs, and headed towards in what he hoped was the direction of the school. Hermione snapped out of it for a moment, and Harry started running, nimbly jumping over fallen logs and roots of the trees around them. In the distance, he could see that the sun was starting to set, and that it was going to be real dark, real soon. The only good sign was that he vaguely make out the outline of a tree line in the distance, through the scrub and trees around them. "C'mon, Hermione, we're almost there." He wasn't breathing hard, and it felt like he was on a major sugar rush. All it was the adrenaline, the fear and excitement starting to hit him after he had tried, and largely failed, to keep it contained within himself. He was worried, flapping big time as for all he knew they were operating against the clock, that every second they spent hunting through the woods for Hogwarts would mean another second in the captivity of Alex and Sirius.

This pushed him harder, doubling his pace, and behind him Harry could hear Hermione struggling to keep up. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hermione was red-faced but keeping up, and had enough breath in her to ask, "Harry, why did you," cough, "do that to the Centaur?" Another cough, and Harry shrugged, "Only option as the crazy fucks were about ready to top us and feed us to the goddamn worms." Just as he said it, the woods broke into a tree line, the grounds of Hogwarts before them. The ground was clear of debris, and Harry, the blade in one hand and his wand in the other, broke out in a dead sprint towards the school. His priorities were clear: break out his friends, deal with Malfoy, and get some wheels or a Floo to the Ministry of Magic.

"Harry!" It was Doc, to his eleven o'clock and making a 'form on him' arm signal. Harry ran over, and when he was two feet away Doc tossed him his CAR-15. Pulling the charging handle back, he pointed the weapon into the air, and peered into the chamber. Empty, and no magazine in the magazine. Before he could ask anything, Doc filled him in as he pointed to his web gear on the ground.

Harry had left the Marauder's map in the common room, and instead of filling magazines with ammunition, Doc had kept a close eye on the work of Harry and company. Watching the dots, he had seen the whole drama, and as soon as Umbridge had disappeared, Katrina, Neville, and himself had burst in wands blazing. Malfoy and company were tied up and stuffed into a broom closet, and they had beaten tracks to the Gryffindor common room. Neville had, like Harry, guessed the sort of move Hermione would make, had quickly taken the situation in hand. Katrina, Doc, and Neville had set down loading magazines with ammo and prepping the gear while Ron, Ginny, and Luna had set about ransacking the school for some Floo powder.

That had been about half an hour earlier, and despite the improbability of it, no Floo powder had been found. It seemed that Umbridge may not have been totally stupid after all, as their frustrated attempts to locate any Floo powder came to naught. Harry had pretty much used what was left of his Floo powder communicating with Grimmauld Place, and nobody in the school it seemed had any as one of Umbridge's decrees had been the confiscation of said powder from everybody, to include the faculty. Neville had had no doubts that Snape probably had some stashed away, but the Potions master had vanished, and Katrina had warned him that her father was a fanatic when it came to security.

At the moment, they had stopped the loading and were instead moving down the equipment they would need from the Gryffindor tower, to the front lawn. Neville and the rest of the gang had gone looking for either a car or one of the twins' magic carpets. Brooms were out of the question based on the kit they had with them, and they needed something with a flat bed, where they could finish loading the magazines. Neville had admitted that they had a better chance of seeing old lady Trewlawney burst in riding a tricycle and juggling pies then of finding either, but he was still willing to look for it.

"Harry!" He turned, and saw the rest of the party running at a fast towards them. Neville was the only one carrying a firearm, his CAR-15 tied to his forearm with a length of boot-laces. The belt kit he wore over his black robes. Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Katrina had their wands out and at the ready. Neville saw the blood on his shirt, and asked him, "You all right?"

"Yeah, centaur and giant blood. Umbridge got snatched by the centaurs, and fuck knows where she's at now. No dice with the wheels?" 

Neville shook his head. Harry swore, and wondered if he was going to have a make a choice between guns and ammo versus speed. That decision, though, didn't come to pass, as a small herd of thestrals trotted towards them. Neville saw them first, and wondered what the hell was attracting them. Ginny pointed to Harry's blood-stained shirt, and Ginny pointed out that the winged horses were attracted to blood. Harry remembered then from his lessons in Care of Magical Creatures, before Hagrid had had to leave, that the winged horses were visible to those who had seen death. In the case of himself and Nev, that had up close and as personal as one could get.

Watching one of them trot up and start licking his chest, he remembered just what they were used. He knew it would be a risky, as his knowledge of how to control them was about zilch, but what real options were available.

"You guys see the school's carriages anywhere around?" Holding his rifle in his left hand, Neville drew his wand and said, "Accio Carriage." Sure enough, one of the black Howarts carriages came rolling to a stop within moments in front of them. Quickly, he yanked open a door and looked in. Crammed in with two people on each bench, plus two sitting back to back on the floor would give them enough room, plus have some working space as he started stuffing in ammo and grenade cans, and told his mates his plan. Hermione asked him, a bit excitedly, "Harry, have you ever…"

"Something similar. You trust me?"

Hermione bit her lip, and even though she probably had misgivings (not that could blame her, as he had his own misgivings of what he was about to do), she nodded, and Harry pointed out how he wanted them to sit. A bit more space was created when Doc said he would ride footman, sitting in the back strapped to the boot (trunk) of the carriage. Harry privately thought he was nuts. Everybody got in then, and Neville sat on the floor, hurriedly loading magazines and stuffing the full magazines into the green cotton bandoliers. Harry kept himself working fast by gently fastening a bridle to the lead thestral, who (to his relief) had gone about getting into place as soon as the carriage came to a stop. That done Harry made sure everything was tight and fastened, not wanting the thestrals to break off and have a carriage accident at several thousand feet.

Before he got up on to the driver's seat, he took a moment, and asked them, "I don't think it would do much good to tell you all none of you have to do this, and it would probably be…"

"Harry" It was Ron, who was fumbling rounds into the magazines with Neville. Everyone was looking at Harry now, much to his discomfort.

"What, Ron?"

"Shut the fuck up and let's go." Harry sighed, and jumped up on to the driver's seat. Ginny nimbly climbed up next to him, riding shotgun, and said. "Let's go Harry." She put her hand on Harry's leg and looked at him, her brown eyes gazing deep into his. Harry wanted to tell her that he loved her, to let her know how much she meant to him, to hold her in his arms and stroke her hair that shone like red silk. For that matter, he wanted to give her a kiss, a kiss that for all he knew could be their last as he privately thought he was out of his fucking gourd for letting someone like her, for that matter, allowing any his friends to get involved in something like this. Yet he knew, deep down, that they would never, not in a million years, abandon him…

Eight kids with wands, three with small arms and rudimentary knowledge of infantry weapons and tactics, going up against a well-armed, capable foe who probably knew they were coming…

Still, Harry was a professional, so he smiled and flicked the reigns he held in his hand. Across his lap was his CAR-15, no magazine and no round in the chamber. The thestrals trotted and then started to canter, the wings on their back flapping so that they rose gently like an airplane. Gaining altitude, Harry felt them rise and looked around. Taking out the compass he carried with his belt kit, he steered the thestral team south, and prayed that his love and his friends be safe in the battle he knew they would be fighting, and that they made it in time to save the lives of those he held so dear.


	38. Chapter XXXVIII: The Ministry of Magic

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I, but to reiterate I'm not getting anything out of this but playing out the scenario of how things could have turned out in Bk. V had the maturity level been ratcheted up.

First, I would like to apologize to all the readers about the lack of a reliable update. The combination of busy school, improving my rather mediocre grades from last year, and my dog of a computer finally dying caused this latest delay which is a new record for me.

Second, having said that I also had to tone down Chapter 10 (the Alice/Harry section of this work). My reason for that was that I got a review that said I might want to set up this piece on the adult version of the ff site. Considering how some of the more racy fics that I once read are no longer here (the one involving Mad-Eye Moody and Mrs. Weasley, which was funny as hell I might add, as well as one of the better 'R' X-files fics come to mind immediately), I had to consider the possibility and play it safe. Put bluntly, I pretty much had to lobotomize my characterization of Alice, Harry's squib friend and intimate, putting in place a watered down version of what happened between the two of them that caused Harry to grow fond of her. It's a damn shame, but I would rather have a slightly tarnished, imperfect fic then no fic at all.

On a good note, I don't think I lost anything quality wise. Which brings me up to a point I've been thinking of based on a review I had recently. It was a complaint that the quality had degraded somewhat. I've been afraid of that, and my only excuse is that A) these next chapters will be rewrites of cannon based on variables I put in, and B) I can only hope to improve in the sequel, which is empty ground. Anyhow, again I'm sorry and hope you enjoy the culmination of weeks, no months, of writer's block, scribbling in my spare time, and hopefully juggling the fine line between a re-write and outright plagiarism. Only two more chaps to go, and then the sequel.

Writer's resource: (close the spaces to use) time and for calendars and moon cycles. Good stuff.

**Chapter XXXVIII: The Ministry of Magic**

Flying at an altitude of about a thousand feet, Harry was glad that there was a new moon. Without the moonlight, and sticking to the clouds, nobody on the ground could spot them. Or so he hoped…Harry also hoped that the carriage and the thestrals had the magical equivalent of stealth technology, as the last thing he wanted was RAF Fighter Command to spot their unidentified self on radar, and send a friendly flight of Phantoms or Tornado interceptors to greet him with a couple of Sidewinder missiles.

The only thing he hadn't had to worry about was navigation, as the Thestral team seemed to know where he wanted them to take him. Using a compass he had tied to his belt kit, Harry knew they were on a southern heading, and that judging by the view of the land, they were approaching London. Also judging by the speed they were going, he figured it would take them about an hour to reach the Ministry.

Holding on to the reins, Harry continuously checked his compass, to make sure the carriage didn't suddenly start flying in a circle. Ginny helped him by holding the red-light torch (flashlight with a red filter), and by helping him crosscheck their position with the maps that Doc had thrown in with the rest of the gear. Harry busied himself checking his gear, making sure anything loose was taped down (making mental notes that as soon as he landed he would grab the super-sized roll of green duct tape they had and tape it down), and that the shoelaces tied from the sliding butt of his carbine were tight, but not too tight, around his own arm.

The shoelaces bit was an old Northern Ireland trick Harry and Neville had learned over the summer and the advantages of it versus a sling were numerous. It cut down on noise and was less likely to get caught on vines or other obstacles. Should the guy with the weapon get hit, he could either be dragged in with his weapon at hand, or if they were under fire, then dragged in by the weapon itself. In the muggle world, it made for a fairly good way to ensure that one didn't lose your weapon in the middle of a firefight, running and gunning, not having to worry about looking for it if you accidentally tripped over a corpse or a piece of trash…

Unfortunately, for Harry and those like him, while pistols and wands could be used with simultaneously without being cumbersome, long arms such as carbines and rifles were a whole another story. Since two hands were needed to aim and fire the weapon with some degree of accuracy, Alex and Harry had had to think of a way in which a wizard could use magic and use the killing power of muggle weaponry at the same time, a factor Alex felt was going to play a big role in the new war.

The cold hard truth of the matter was that the magical world's methods of killing were accidental by products (the case of stunners, various pyrotechnical and destruction spells, coming to mind), while the three unforgivables one either had to really enjoy dealing them out, or had to have a lot of practice disguising one's emotions to mimic those feelings of cruel delight. Muggle weaponry, though, were wholly mechanical, no feelings whatsoever to affect the outcome of its use. Sadly, there had only been two options regarding joint usage of magic with firearms bigger then a pistol: 1) hold the rifle or whatever in the hand not being used while using a wand to cast the spells, or 2) wand less magic, and that generally left you feeling as though you had tabbed a double marathon. Unless, of course, you were a shaman from Tibet who had spent thirty years since the age of five studying and practicing wand less magic…

So, the tactics developed were a variation of the classic skirmishing tactics, or the use of fire and maneuver used by just about every competent army in the world. Usually, one man armed with a long-arm was paired with someone who had only a wand and pistol (everyone had a pistol, if only a small, hold-out .38 revolver), and the two would complement the other. In the event the guy with the gun decided to use magic, he would hold the gun by the muzzle with his off hand, and use his wand with the one he wrote with. Since wands were fortunately a one-handed magical device, it was doable, if not perfect.

Harry's musings were jolted as Ginny nudged him and pointed to the ground below. They had been riding with a decent wind to their backs, and the thestrals had made good time. Below them, as the winged horses circled and began to land, was the seedy district near Whitehall, and the alley with its solitary phone booth. Harry took a good long look at the alley and knew that they were going to fit. It also appeared that they were in luck as the trash and garbage that normally littered the alley had been cleaned out. With any luck they could make a smooth landing, and from there proceed with the real work.

Suddenly Harry wished he had real control over his transportation, as he really didn't have any idea what awaited him down there. For all he knew, there could be a full-scale ambush waiting for him. Harry had a pretty good idea that maybe they were trying to get him to show his face, or maybe they had made a hostile take-over bid so sudden and brutal that the organs of government power were helpless to stop. Of course…

_Knock it off, asshole; you got a job to do,_ Harry thought to himself violently. Leaning over, his eyes looking at the woodwork of carriage so he didn't develop a sudden case of vertigo looking at the ground rushing below him, he stuck his head close enough to the open window, and yelled, "Get ready to land." Holding the reigns in his, his carbine pointed down and nestled between his legs, and leaning with his back against the framework of the carriage, Harry prepared himself mentally for the descent. While he didn't think it would be a full, ninety-degree drop, it would be steep as the thestrals took them down hard and fast into the landing zone. It was only slightly worrisome that they didn't really have any safety harnesses or seat belts on, just the handrails to either side of them.

Warmth enveloped and squeezed his hand. He looked down and saw that Ginny had leaned back, her left hand entwined with his while her right was gripping the handrail. Harry followed the hand, and looked into her eyes, eyes that looked back at him with a quality that he had come to cherish from what seemed like ages ago. Always, while he had appreciated the physical highpoints of her, her eyes, and the passion and sheer life that shone from them, was what attracted him to her. Harry smiled, and hoped she could read his feelings. _I love you_, he thought as he squeezed back gently. Ginny turned her head to the front, and Harry did likewise.

That goddamn CD player of Doc's was blaring 'TNT' by ACDC out at a billion decibels, as the thestrals, ever so slightly, leaned forward and dove. Harry kept his eyes focused, as he really had no choice but to trust in God, and in the training of the thestrals upon him. In his balls, the pit of his stomach, and from his feet working up through his legs, Harry felt the familiar sensation of the g's as they dove towards to the earth. Harry wasn't unnerved by it, as he had played through worse in Quidditch (including falling off his broom on one rather spectacular occasion), indeed he found it almost comforting. Instead of thinking of the landing, he forced himself to think of all that he remembered of the Ministry, the password in, the layout and architecture of the place…Rather, tried to as the thought that had he had kept buried kept resurfacing.

In another universe, one where Alex didn't exist, he would still have gone after Sirius the way he was doing now. Only, he wouldn't start to have second thoughts about the whole thing the way he currently was. Harry wondered if the old, hoary lines of a woman slowing a man down were true. Before Ginny, before he had someone to go back to, Harry knew that deep down in his subconscious, in a place he would never admit to anyone, he had been a lot like his uncle: he was a gambler with not a goddamn thing left to lose. After all, was going home to the Dursley's, to live in a fucking broom closet under the stairs with little food and thread bare cast-offs really a life worth living for? Every time him and Ron and Hermione had put there lives on the line, it had been as much a sense he was gambling big with nothing to lose as it was a sense of doing the right thing that drove him to do what he had done.

In short, he was an adrenaline junkie.

His 'dabbling in the dark arts' (a line Doc had borrowed from his father to describe combat) during the summer had probably only worsened it. The motivation behind goading Malfoy the Elder in a fight in that Soho whorehouse had been as much for the excitement as it had been for defending his friend Alice. All of the training had been an aphrodisiac to him, getting him psyched for that great big orgy of adrenaline called combat…That is until he discovered how great it was finding comfort in the arms of a woman he knew loved him…And how great it was returning that love, how it had felt really good that he had found something else to latch on to in addition to the friendships he had formed, and the way he was treated by people he considered a real family, his family: the Weasleys.

Now, as he faced the prospect of saving the sorry collective asses of a government that couldn't give a flying fuck about him, Harry had to remind himself, lie to himself that saving said asses was merely collateral. What he was really doing was going there to save what little blood relations and family he had left in this world. Besdies, Alex had saved his ass, and it was his turn to bring him out of the cold the way Alex had done for him…

Gently, he disentangled his hand from Ginny's and reached into one of the ammo pouches on his belt kit. Removing a magazine, he put it in the magazine well and slammed it home. Moving his right hand to the charging handle, he pulled it back, and let it slide forward. Finally, he checked the safety, and could hear the sound of Doc and Neville doing likewise. Harry could start to feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising, that feeling he had in the pit of his stomach as the adrenaline and the excitement started to brew. There had been times he had felt nothing, other times when he had dreaded what was coming, other times things had happened so fast he really didn't have any idea what was happening, relying on instinct and training to see him through. Now it seemed to be everything and anything, his heart racing at a million hours an hour, the blood flowing like a flood within his veins.

Harry had a job to do…only this time things had never been so personal…

* * *

The thestrals dove, and with a gentle bump the carriage was rolling along the cobblestone streets. Harry watched the thestrals, and could see why the school maintained a herd of them. They had been a swift, relatively comfortable ride. He had no complaints as he gripped his carbine tighter in his hands, and started scanning the surrounding area. Other then trash, one dimly lit street light, the same red phone booth, and a couple of over-flowing dumpsters, Harry couldn't see anything suspicious.

Jumping from the top of the carriage as it slowed to a stop, the doors centered on the phone booth, Harry knelt and examined his surrounding. His rifle at the shoulder, Harry knew that if there were any hostiles nearby they would have lit them up like a Christmas tree as soon as the carriage slowed down, but he wasn't taking any chances. Neither were Neville and Doc, for Harry could hear them hit the ground around him.

"Clear!" That was Doc, followed quickly by Neville as they found that they were the only people in the alley were they themselves. It was confirmed shortly afterwards by Ron, who was using one of the Foe Glasses that Doc had squirreled away in the arms locker with the other kit. Harry got up and went over to Neville, was passing out additional magazines in addition to the three that was in the belt kit, less one each of them was using in their carbines at the moment. He also handed out, divided amongst Katrina, Ron, and Doc, three additional bandoliers of ammunition. Each was basically a belt of olive-drab cotton, divided into compartments that held 120 rounds in cardboard boxes of 20 a piece. Coupled with the nine magazines that they held in their belts, plus the ones they already had in their weapons, the gunmen had about ten magazines and a bandolier apiece, which any infantryman will tell you is a pretty hefty load.

Besides the ammo, Neville was carrying the medical bag. While he privately thought Harry was better at first aid and the medical side of things, truth was Neville had always been able to grasp what was wrong, and how to fix that wrong, in regards to the human body then Harry was. Neville had known what was bothering Creevey earlier: it was just he wanted a second opinion from his best friend, whom he played his personal life fast and life, and quite frankly was a minor miracle wasn't suffering from the same maladies. Plus, Harry had always seemed to have an easier side with the chemistry angle of things.

On the other hand, when it came to the gory business of patching up a human body that reeked of shit and piss and copper (from the blood), Neville had to admit to himself that he was fairly competent at it. Doc Abberline had high standards, and wouldn't have taught things like how to maintain an IV drip and other complicated life saving measures to a half-wit. After the firefight in Wales, it had been Nev and Abberline who had patched the dumb Provo's chest wound and kept him long enough for whatever tortures and interrogation measures the intelligence services had had in store for him. So, Nev carried an additional haversack weighing about ten pounds with additional medical kit, the kit one needed to ensure that a man who had just taken three rounds to his chest, or had both legs blown to stumps of bone, blood, and tissue had a chance at making it back.

There was also a bumper pack of one-shot morphine shots, and the only reason those were there was because Neville knew that the healing powers of the magical world weren't as magical as they appeared to muggles. Neville and Harry had a silent pact that if either of them were so badly fucked up that ending up a magical vegetable was the only road, and then the other would start injecting the other with morphine until an overdose happened. From some of the shit they had seen (including a god-awful picture from 1916 showing a man who had lived with his lower jaw, the whole mandible blown off), not to mention the way Moody looked despite the best efforts of magical medicine, there was no way they were going to live life like that.

In a green haversack slung over Harry's neck was a Claymore anti-personnel mine, the only one in the whole school. Alex had always kept a live one on hand to teach the students how to arm and maintain them with confidence. When Umbridge had shut down the Dueling and Muggle Self-Defense club, Doc had moved quickly to secure the club's gear, and the nine smoke, three fragmentation, three white phosphorous grenades coupled with the Claymore mine was the extant of the demolitions gear he had secured on short notice. There had been more, but the rest he had been forced to leave out in the open to be confiscated as he had judged hiding the small arms and ammo would be a greater benefit then any of the explosives.

So, loaded down with about thirty pounds of gear on their belts and pouches, three smokes, a frag, and a Willy Peter apiece, they were set kit wise. Harry wished they had a bit more ammo, but the problem had been the number of magazines they could get there hands on with the amount of time available. Back at Hogwarts, before the bitch Umbridge (whom he sincerely hoped was being sodomized by the whole centaur nation at the moment) had fucked things up, they had had the weapons and ammo to ensure that just about everybody who wanted to could be issued a long-arm, a pistol, and a lot more ammunition then they had right now. Not counting personal weapons like the pistols, each of the three riflemen had 460 rounds of 5.56mm rounds in thirty round magazines (29 to a magazine to ensure the spring would work properly if it wasn't so tightly pressed) plus another 120 loose rounds in the bandoliers.

Harry held his CAR-15 in his hands, and went over to the phone booth. Opening it, he saw that it could fit three people in at a time. He paused, and looked back at his friends. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to go, that his family was at risk, but he looked around and saw what he knew was really his family: his friends. Katrina, hair braided back who had sat around and joked with the best of them about what her father was doing. Neville, who had stood with him on that god-forsaken bit of mud and ran to help while he was under fire. Ron and Hermione, his first and best friends, a couple who had shared many a danger with him ever since he had first learned of the magical world. Luna, whom in the short time he had known her was a friend who stood up with the best of them. Ginny, who stood with her wand drawn at her side, her face set in a look of determination, a woman who had shown him real love and passion. Finally, there was Doc, a stranger from a strange land, who didn't know fear, and who stood puffing on a lit Winston cigarette without a care in the world, his US Marine Corps cap pushed back rakishly.

Running a hand along his collarbone, Harry felt the 'dog tags' as Doc called them, and the silver charm Ginny had gotten for him. He also felt the gold Saint George's medal Alex had thrust in his hand moments before the shit had splattered in Latvia. _You're mad, Harry, do you think Alex brought you out of that hellhole just so you could risk the lives of your_…

"Harry?" It was Ginny.

"Yeah, Gin?"

She looked at him, and nodded. Harry grinned, feeling the adrenaline and fear and excitement course through his veins. The poet Owen of the First World War had it wrong; young men didn't go and risk death for the old lie of patriotism and glory. Maybe that was what seduced them to go out there in the first place, but when Death came up close and personal, and sanity arrived in a big way, it was the friends and comrades of those young men. Nothing else really mattered…

"Right then, Doc and Hermione, with me, three minute intervals. Ron, and Neville, you're up afterwards. You three pull rear-guard." He pointed to Katrina, Luna, and Ginny. Harry was going for a balanced force of guns and magic. Neville was going in with the second group, both because of the fact Harry wanted firepower with that group, and also because as the medic of their little expedition he would be in a prime position to help patch up whoever had gotten fucked up in the first group.

Hermione got in first, and Harry gestured for Doc to go in, wanting to lead from the front, but Doc held up a hand. "Let me take point on this 'un Harry." Harry shrugged, and nodded. Stepping in, he waited until Doc had latched the door closed before dialing in the numbers that matched the letters of the word MAGIC. The same voice he had heard the last time he was at the Ministry asked for their purpose; Harry somehow kept a straight face as he replied, "Rescue Mission". He also asked that eight badges be created, and sure enough, eight visitor's passes with 'rescue mission' stamped on them in all caps came out of the phone. Passing them out, Harry heard Doc pull the charging handle back and chamber a round. Harry then heard two clicks, which meant he had switched his carbine from safe to full automatic. The British used the older versions of the M-16 and its derivatives; Vietnam-era weaponry that didn't fire three-round bursts like the newer stuff being used. Instead, the CAR-15s they had could throw a magazine's worth of five fifty-six rounds in the air fast then a fart and fuck people up big time.

A chime sounded, and Harry threw himself back into a corner as Doc dove to the right out of the lift. Hermione did as Harry did, taking cover behind the other corner facing away from the door. A second passed and nothing, followed by the sounds of running, someone going on the ground, and a yell, "It's clear!" Doc.

Harry got up and bomb-burst out of there to the right, followed by Hermione who went left. Running in a zigzag, Harry counted to three, and threw himself on the ground, a shock going through his knees as it came into contact with the cobblestone floor. Grunting he brought his weapon to his shoulder, and began looking around him. Outside of the fountain and the gate further in the distance, they were alone. Harry heard the chimes from the elevator sound in the distance as it went to get the rest of his group.

Kneeling, he continued, to look and yelled over at Doc, "Anything?"

"Jack shit"

Nodding, he asked Hermione if she could sense something, anything. She shook her head, and replied, "We need Ron and the Foe glass." Harry silently cursed himself for letting that valuable piece of hardware be in the follow-up group. Hermione was standing, and walking forward until Harry yelled at her, "Get down!" She did so, and asked, "What do you see, Harry?"

"Nothing, just stay down, you'll be a smaller target that way."

"Coming through!"

That was Doc, who ran forward for five seconds, dropped, and scanned. Harry leaped up and did likewise, dropping after four instead as he too looked. So far everything was quiet as Hermione followed them. The elevator chimed again, and Harry heard Neville yell, "Coming through!"

Harry got up on a knee then, and decided it was time to gamble. So far, nothing, no possible ambushes had been sprung at them. Getting up then, Harry held his carbine one-handed in the air, and commanded, "Follow me." Inside he was giggling, despite the gravity of their situation, knowing he was acting like a Rupert (officer) off of some B-grade war movie. Jogging, they went past the guard post, Doc looking in to see no one inside, and waved him or her forward. Harry turned, as saw the rest of their group running forward. Stepping up to the lift, he pushed the down button, and waited.

It chimed, and once again they went in three by three by two. Getting off on the ninth floor, they took up the usual formations, weapons and wands pointed at the black door. Harry breathed deep as he set a hand on Doc's shoulder, and nodded at the door. Doc nodded back, and stepped aside. Harry moved forward, and opened the door. Inside he could see black as he tightened his hold on the pistol grip of his carbine. Holding it one handed, Harry let his thumb flick the selector switch to automatic, and stepped in. Behind him, Harry knew his friends were close behind.

Once in, Harry had to squint, for the torchlight from the hallway had gone extremely dim, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the murky surroundings. While the outer hallway had had a little light from a series of enchanted torches mounted on the walls, the room he was in looked positively black in comparison. There were two similar torches mounted on the walls of the room, which was circular and along its walls were eleven other doors besides the one Harry entered. Harry found himself squinting trying to figure which one to go through, as in the dreams he had had of the place, it had been like a ride at an amusement park. There had been no control on his part; he just went where he was lead.

Behind him his seven friends made their way in, and Hermione asked him which door they should enter. Harry replied he hadn't a clue, and noticed then that all the doors were exactly alike. A sudden thought struck him, but before he could give voice to it, the door by which they had entered slammed shut. Within a moment the room started to rumble and the doors began spinning. The twin torches mounted opposite the other became a neon blur for what seemed a long time before they stopped spinning. Rapidly blinking his eyes, Harry swore: the doors were indeed identical and now they didn't know the exit. About the only good thing now was that they hadn't been ambushed, though on the debit side of things Harry was leading a small force into a situation they really had no clue about, and so far had seen neither hide nor hair of Sirius or Alex.

Doc had a bundle of chemical lights in his kit, which he broke out and passed around. Harry ripped open the plastic wrapper and cracked the tube. It was blue, the same blue as the torches. Taking a bit of para-cord from one of his ammo pouches, Harry tied it down to one of the suspenders of his belt kit. It probably wasn't the smartest idea putting a luminous stick of plastic on one's person, but at the moment they needed the illumination then they did the concealment. Neville had pulled out a small torch from his pocket and was flashing it off the stone walls of the room. Harry started to wish he had some night-vision gear, some fancy kit one watched in a James Bond movie, but then shook his head. Wishing for something didn't mean that he was going to get it, and all he was doing now was waste time.

"Lets get to it," he told his friends, and opened a door at random. Stepping in, he found himself in a rectangular room, better lit then the other, this one filled with a few desks and a giant fish-tank. Inside, in murky green water (reminiscent of an episode from a sci-fi show about aliens and global conspiracies Harry had watched over the summer) were a horde of human brains. One of the brains bobbed and bounced against the side of the tank, and Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Despite the fact there were other doors along the walls of the room, Harry made a snap judgment that it would be a better idea to back-track and start from there. Urging everyone to follow him, Harry and company went back into the entry room, where Hermione raised her wand and yelled, "Flagrate!" This put a fiery red 'X' on the door which they had left, and proved to be a good thing, for the room spun again to mix and match the rooms up once more.

Harry picked a second room, and this one turned out to lead to an auditorium like area that reminds him of the Wizengamot. Unlike it, though, was a stone arch with a faded, black curtain over it. Harry once again felt the creeping sensation wash over him as he watched the arch. There was a door on the other side of the room, and as soon as Hermione marked the one they had entered, they started to make their way across. Harry's eyes darted around, looking for snipers (after all, what else was some asshole Death Eater hiding in the dark with a wand point at you, ready to kill you so quick you would be dead before you hit the ground?) but his eyes kept being drawn to the archway. The curtain seemed to drift and blow, as though there was a wind, but Harry couldn't feel it. A sound seemed to be coming from it, too. Harry thought at first it was the wind, but then the voices started getting louder, and he stood for a while and stared at it. Something had him picked, he just wasn't sure exactly…

Vaguely, he could hear Hermione calling. On the peripheries of his vision he could see Luna and Ginny and Ron and Katrina likewise entranced. Doc seemed to be the only one doing anything worthwhile, his cover (cap) perched back, head and eyes constantly looking out for danger. Danger…a vision of Sirius laying on a stone floor like this one, bloody and screaming. Another of his uncle, laughing and cackling as he swirled to face Malfoy and his goons, brought him out of his state. Hermione pouted, and replied, "That's what I've been telling you!"

Together, both of them wound up having to shake awake practically everyone in the room. Doc seemed to be the only one not affected besides them, as he knelt and continued keeping watch near the stone steps in front of the arch. Near him was the Foe-glass, in case anyone wearing an invisibility cloak or some other from of magical concealment came close. Him and Harry were the last to exit the room, going back into the entry area. Again, there had been other exits in the room, but Harry hadn't gotten any good vibes out of that room either, and decided doubling back would be a safer option. Harry realized that while it might sound ludicrous (after all, what sane or fearful person would consider going up against the most evil wizard in England with small arms, wands, and little ammo), he had learned over the past several years to bet on his instincts, and those instincts were telling him to bomb-burst out of that room quick like.

Once they were back in the entry room, Hermione again marked the door, this time with a white X to mark which room was which. Harry went over to another door, and remarked, "Third times the charm." Behind him he could hear Neville snort, and mutter something about bollocks under his breath. Harry pushed, and it didn't budge. Frowning, he pushed harder, and still it didn't budge. Katrina cast Alohomora, and again no dice.

"Try another, Harry…"

"And if this is the one we're supposed to use Hermione?" Ron asked.

"He opened all the others in his dreams without any trouble." She replied, referring to the dreams Harry had had in December and recently.

Wondering if maybe it required mechanical as opposed to magical means of opening, Harry ignored his squabbling friend and opened the knife Sirius had given him the year before. Running the blade down the crack between door and wall, he could feel nothing, no locks or bolts or anything. Shaking his head in frustration he pulled the blade out and looked at it for a second. Where there had once been a blade only a small scattering of melted metal around the hilt existed.

Putting the ruined knife in his pocket, Harry went over to another door as Hermione marked the one they had left with a gold X. Harry waited for the room to do its usual mixing, and when it stopped he picked another door at random. Throwing open the door, Harry was gladdened to see something that he could understand at first glance. Before them was a standard office, with at least a dozen offices divided into cubicles. Scrolls, trashcans, what looked like a cold pot of tea on a cheap pine table. It was a rectangular room, with two other doors at the opposite end of it.

Harry paused, looked about at the layout of it, and spoke to his friends, "Right, rally point. Anybody gets separated make your way back here. Choke point, cover, and you can make a barricade out of this shit." Kicking a desk for emphasis, Harry led them to the opposite side of the room. Before the two doors, Harry picked the one on the left, and opened it gently. Getting on to his stomach, he quickly peeked out of it to see a long hallway with more doors. Harry ducked back into the office and went to the other door. Opening it Doc went in on point, and this time they found themselves in room full of oddities.

This one seemed to be another office; only this one was special in that magical sort of unexpectedness Harry had grown fond of since he had put his shiny new black shoes in the Great Hall as a wide-eyed boy of eleven years. All around were clocks, old-fashioned ones that looked and sounded mechanical, the ticking and turning a constant sound in his ears. It reminded him of a heartbeat, and Harry could feel his pulse quicken. Unlike the others, this one was very well lit from a white light in the ceiling, and Harry felt the same old feeling in the pit of his stomach. Liquid, as though something was wiggling and grasping within, the same feeling he had had before his first Quidditch game, before the tests in the Triwizard Tournament, before every occasion he had put life and limb and (with the Dementors) his very soul on the line. Harry knew it well, and tried not to dwell on it, for he saw another door at the end of the room. A hunch, indeed, the very layout of the room, was starting to become familiar.

They were running through the room now, field-craft to the winds as they yanked off the chem.-lights they had on. "Harry!" Ginny called out to him, and Harry turned his head to look over at her. She in turn was looking at a large glass urn, in which was a phoenix constantly dieing and becoming reborn. She was looking at it with a bit of awe and wonder. Harry, having seen Fawkes do similar before in Dumbledore's office, wasn't too awed, and nudged her.

"Come on."

Ginny glared at him for a moment before replying as they moved towards the door, "You spent a good bit of time eyeballing that old arch." Behind him, Ron swore and said the Foe Glass had gone foggy. Harry shook his head, and ran over to the door, and with his weight pushing the door open ran in. Inside, Harry grimaced and continued to move fast. The room he was in was huge and cavernous. Before them was aisle upon aisle of shelves, bookcases really, each holding so many yellow orbs that it felt like the place was bathed in it, and Harry could feel his flesh have goose-bumps as the familiarity of the room occurred to him. This was the same room in which he had watched a man die, bitten to death by a giant snake…_And somewhere here is my family, and that reptilian bastard._

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to remember some fact that would lead them to the target, and not waste time fruitlessly searching the whole bloody place. Examining the shelves, he saw that each row of bookcases had a number sign. Harry remembered noticing a nine and a seven brunt into one of the bookcases in his dream. That fact must have been related to Hermione and the rest when he had briefed them back at Hogwarts for Hermione turned to him and asked, "Row 97 right?"

Harry nodded, and they made their way down the aisles. If the rules of field-craft and fire and movement had been dangerously ignored before (dangerous because in real life, unlike action movies, running and gunning about without some methodology ensured that comrades didn't kill the enemy but each other), it was out of the window and into the wind now. Harry counted the rows, and clutched his weapon tighter. They were rapidly coming up upon their destination, but he couldn't see anything amiss.

Ninety-seven, and Harry skidded to a stop. Breathing rapidly through his nose, he clutched his carbine and looked around him: nothing. Around him he could hear people stopping, and taking cover behind bookcases. Harry knew that even though they were acting like they knew what they were doing, they were confused. God knew he was.

Keeping his finger on the trigger guard, Harry slowly turned and looked around. No blood trails, there was a lot more light then there had been, the air smelt absolutely sterile…Harry felt his insides grow cold, and avoided looking at his peers. There was no blood, no people, there should have been something damn it!

"Harry" It was Ron, but Harry ignored him as he looked down one row of cases, and then the other. Nothing, and Harry started running down the main aisle, hoping that he may have missed some clue, that maybe Voldemort and his captives were just around the corner. Maybe they were ignoring him and him and his group as they bomb burst in, maybe they had left behind some clue if they left, perhaps they….

"Harry!" Ron again, and this time his voice was more insistent.

"What!" Harry stopped at the opposite end of the hall and started shaking his head, trying to keep himself from either flapping, or from meeting the expressions on his friends' faces…

"You might want to take a look at this." Shaking his head one more time, he looked over at Ron, who was pointing at one of the shelves. Walking over to him, Harry barked out, "Doc, you see anything?"

"Nope, not a damn thing!" Doc had taken cover behind one of the bookcases and was facing the way they had entered. Neville called out right after, "Don't see jack shit, Harry!" He in had done likewise only across from Doc and in the other direction. Katrina and Ginny had the remaining directions, and they yelled back similar. Nothing, all quiet.

So far nothing, but Harry could feel a sickening liquid sensation in his stomach and bowels even as his mind was racing. There was something amiss, he just couldn't make sense of what was before him. Too many conflicting principles were in play. What he had seen and felt had been too life-like to have possibly been a dream, and he didn't think he shared the same dreams as the Dark Lord. In turn this meant that they would have been in a trap. The only problem with that was Snape was still in the land of the living, and they were still unmolested. Even if they were waiting for tactical purposes, there hadn't been any sign of them, indeed of life period, in the entire ministry.

Harry's thoughts were put on hold as he got up to Ron, and Ron pointed to one of the orbs. Glancing at it, Harry noticed that it was yellow, and appeared to be made of glass. Just beneath it was what had attracted Ron's attention, for written on a piece of parchment (likewise dusty and yellowed with age) was the caption: SPT to APWBD-Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.

"What is it?" Ron asked him. Harry shrugged, "Not a clue."

Making sure his weapon was on safe, Harry removed the magazine and put it in his trousers pocket. He then pulled back the charging handle, letting the round eject into his hand and pocketing it before he raised his right arm, letting his carbine hang. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands around the orb, and gripped it. It didn't feel cold, indeed Harry could feel a slight warmth within the orb. Pulling it away from the shelves, Harry tensed waiting for anything, something to happen. Nothing.

Using the sleeve of his shirt, Harry brushed off some of the dust from glass and spotted out of his peripheral vision most of his friends moving closer to get a better look. Only Doc seemed to be busy, eyes emotionless, scanning the area. Harry saw Doc slowly turn and turn, trying to get as much of the area into his line of sight as possible while staying behind the cover of a bookcase.

It was then Harry heard, coming from directly behind him towards the other end of the room, a bored, drawling voice: "Very, very good Potter. Now turn around nice and slowly and give it to me."

Harry suddenly felt the urge to go take a piss.


	39. Chapter XXXIX: Any Burden, Any Price

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I

Warning: Blood, Violence, Gore, Angst, and the whole lot of it

**Chapter XXXIX: Any Burden, Any Price**

Black shapes seemed to materialize all around them, coming out of the thin air. Black cloaks, masks, hoods, wands at the ready. Harry counted eleven of them, and really wasn't worried. What did bother him was the fact there was at least thirty more people, wearing an assortment of muggle rig and carrying muggle weaponry, though the biggest hardware he could see sported were bolt-action sporting rifles and hunting shotguns. These bastards were storming into the room via the opposite ends of the room, and Harry saw that they were vampires, the skin pale and looking not unlike cream cheese in the light. Harry heard the voices giving their commands in Slavic, and saw that one of the hooded figures (Harry presumed that they were wizards, as they were cloaked and masked whilst the vampires looked like a grunge-rock, Neo-Nazi crew of Romper-Stompers) wearing a double-eagle pendant on a chain around his neck. Harry had little doubts it was the Russian bastard from November who had blasted Doc's foot to pieces, killed the goblins, and damn near destroyed his source of mulled mead.

Harry heard the sound of a safety being clicked off, and then another. "HOLD FIRE!" He bawled out at the top of his lungs, hoping that Doc and the rest wouldn't open fire. Around him those with wands kept them at their sides, obviously trusting him to get them out of this mess. Either that or they were shocked at how fluid the situation was moving. Harry felt two things: a pain, a prayer that he would get them all out of the mess that he created, and a hope that Doc would decide today really wasn't a good day to die.

In short order they were surrounded, wands and weapons pointed at them. Ginny gasped behind them in horror. Harry had to agree with her, as this so far had to be the worst scrape he had ever gotten him, and worse yet his friends in…

"Hand it over, Mister Potter." The voice was the Slavic tones Harry remembered of the Death Eater Igachev. Igachev commanded, raising a palm and gesturing at Harry to go to him. Next to him was a tall Death Eater in the plain black garb of what Harry presumed was the British Death Eaters.

Harry could feel the despair in him as he guessed a figure of being outnumbered about five to one. Eyes darting hither and to, he saw that they were surrounded, all ways into and out of the room cut off. Doc was on one knee, weapon pointed at the enemy, his face utterly expressionless. Harry had a sudden thought …

"To me Potter." Now it was the man on Igachev's right that got to the front, and demanded from Harry. An old nemesis, one whom Harry had several debts to collect from: Lucius Malfoy.

"Where are Sirius and Alex?" Harry asked instead, his grip on the orb tighter. The inquiry was greeted with a gale of laughter. One of the voices was female, to Harry's left, who spoke in triumph, "The Dark Lord always knows."

"Always," Malfoy incanted softly before continuing, "Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Alex and Sirius are!"

"I want to know where Alex and Sirius are…" The woman to his left mimicked him, and Harry became painfully aware that he and his comrades were surrounded. Malfoy, the bitch to his left, and the other Death Eaters were moving in closer, their wands at the ready. His bowels were churning…

Harry blinked, and forced himself to speak in a calm voice. "You have them both. Here, now, so where are they?" More laughter greeted him, and the woman continued to mock him, saying the frightened little baby had woken and thought what it had dreamt was real. Was it? Harry thought to himself.

Next to him Harry saw Ron stirring and Harry spoke to him, "Don't do anything yet, Ron. Not yet." Another gust of laughter, though Harry noticed that while the woman laughed loudest of all, the Russian and Malfoy were very quiet.

"Do you hear him?_ You hear him?_ Giving orders to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" More laughter, but Malfoy spoke back in a very soft voice.

"You don't know Potter the way I do, Bellatrix. He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." The last was directed at Harry, who fired back, "I know they're here!" Harry knew he was flapping, that he could hear quite clearly the panic rising in his voice. Perhaps the other Death Eaters could hear it too, for the laughter was quite deafening it seemed to Harry.

"I know you've bloody got him and Alex, you fuck!" Harry's voice cracked, and he tightened his grip on the globe.

"Perhaps it is time you learned there is a difference between illusions and reality, Potter. Give me the prophecy, or we will take it by force."

Harry didn't even blink, as he let his left hold on to the orb as he brought his right hand up, clutching his carbine. As he did so he could hear angry muttering, the laughter dying out as hammers got cocked back, the Death Eaters raising their wands. Ron, Hermione, Katrina, Ginny, and Luna had their own wands drawn and raised as the Death Eaters did so. Harry heard the ominous noises of safeties being clicked off by Doc and Neville behind him. Inside he was horrified; as he knew that no matter what happened, he had lead his friends into death…

Yet…though they had Potter and his mates outnumbered and outgunned, they didn't make a move to _use _their wands, merely held them at the ready. Harry still had the safety on, and could feel his arm strain as he pointed his carbine with one hand, though by moving it up and down he could find the strain somewhat bearable.

Malfoy's voice sounded again, this time in a sneering tone, one which Harry could almost see his snide, arrogant smile. "No need for that, Potter. Just give us the prophecy, and we'll let you go on your way unharmed." Harry was about to fire back that he wasn't naïve enough to believe in that when Malfoy continued, "I would do as I said, Potter, before I take away the one thing in the world you care, no…" A pause, then a laugh, one of malice and contempt, "love isn't it? More then your own life?"

Harry was now somewhat confused, and Malfoy's voice became low, threatening. "The Dark Lord knows all about what you hold dear, Potter. And you know full well just what I'm capable of…" A pause, and before Harry could respond, Malfoy continued, "Alice was such an exquisite woman…I wonder if you're willing sacrifice your other whore the same way?"

Now his guts ran cold, but Harry was still playing like ice. "Which one? I've had more then my fair share in my time, and besides," he grinned feral, "I think you'll find them a bit too much to handle if they're willing, and have the means to fight back."

Malfoy's voice rang out in laughter, joining him shortly thereafter by the others in the cavern, once again sounding loud. This time Malfoy barked, "What a fool you are, Potter! The Dark Lord sees all, hears all, knows all…feels all…" Harry felt Malfoy's eyes pierce into him then, his voice cutting into him like a winter's wind. "Perhaps you should tell your friends of your romantic side, Potter? Of holding that that you hold so dear under the stars…." Malfoy stopped, letting it sink in and perhaps to savor the moment.

Indeed, Harry felt nauseous as the implications sank in, but he still wondered if he could bluff or fight his way out. Now, with the cat well and truly out of the bag, the despair he had had before was gone, as all he could think of was getting Ginny the hell out of here. If he had to die in the process…

_More time_, he thought to himself.

The Death Eater continued, "Oh, yes, Potter. We know all about your…"

"Regardless, answer me this though, what the hell have you done with A…"

"Accio Prophecy!" The female Death Eater waved her wand and Harry roared out, concentrating his mind, "Protego!" The ball slipped a few inches from Harry's fingers, he felt a momentary wave of nausea, but he still maintained his grip on it. His heart was starting to race, so all he could do was turn and stare at the woman, who looked at him for a moment.

"Wand less magic…so the little baby knows how to play? Very well, then…"

Malfoy was the one starting to flap now, "I SAID NO! If he smashes the prophecy…"

A plan began forming in Harry's mind, for if they wanted this piece of glass that badly, and all he gave the fuck about was getting those he loved out of here….

The woman moved close to Harry and his friends, and threw back her hood. Removing the porcelain mask, Harry recognized the harsh features of Bellatrix Lestrange, her face gaunt and skull-like from her time in Azkaban. Her eyes startled him, for while she looked like a corpse, the eyes were glowing and alight with a maniacal fire.

"So you need to encouraged, is that it? So be it, then-take the smallest one. Let him watch as we torture the little filth. I'll do it myself." This last was directed to the other Death Eaters, who began moving in on Ginny. Harry left nothing to chance, moving in front of her, his weapon dropped and hanging from his arm. Instead, he grasped the orb tighter and held it close to his chest.

"Make your play and you'll be smashing this in the process. I get the idea your boss won't be too pleased if you came back without it, now will he?" The bitch stared at him, and Harry took the opportunity to keep the talking going.

"So, what kind of prophecy are we talking about here?"

"What kind of prophecy? You jest, Potter."

"Only when I'm fucking your wife, Malfoy, now why does Voldemort want this?" Harry heard several of the Death Eaters hiss, but kept his eyes constantly flickering about, hoping to find a gap, a weakness they could exploit.

"You dare to speak his name." The bitch's voice was low, threatening, but to one whose only love and family were at risk, and who had been under the blade before, it didn't faze him in the least.

"Yeah, I've got no quibbles saying Vol…"

"Shut your filthy mouth!" Lestrange shrieked, high-pitched and banshee-like. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips; you dare to besmirch it with your half-blood's…"

"You know he's a half-blood, too?" Harry was reckless, piss and vinegar and blood and salt now. Near him he could hear Hermione groan, but he pressed on savagely. Doc was separated from the rest of them, but he seemed to be watching, alert, ready for action… "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch who kept her legs open long enough for his Dad the muggle to shag without contraception ending up producing that sorry piece of filth-or has he been telling you lot he's a pureblood all along?"

"STUPE-"

"NO!"

Harry had memorized that it took about three pounds of pressure to squeeze a trigger, and he could feel just about every ounce on the triggers of Neville and Doc as Malfoy deflected the stunner. Not blinking, he listened instead as Malfoy yelled at Lestrange to not do anything until they had the prophecy. It was obvious that Malfoy was the main Rupert in charge. Mentally, Harry decided that if shit looked hopeless he was going to shoot him in the fucking guts and hopefully live long enough to watch the whoreson die.

Ghostly figures emerged from into, the detritus from the smashed orb on a shelf hit by Lestrange's stunner. Harry didn't look, instead moving his left foot so that it tapped Hermione's, who was behind him. In his mind he had the germ of an idea, that were it properly executed, could ensure that some of them got away. Not a perfect solution, but in a situation like this perfect was on the other side of the moon…

"You still haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy you want me to hand over." Harry played for more time.

"Do not toy with us, Potter." Malfoy had the situation under somewhat control by now. Next to him Harry watched the Russian toss his wand in the air and catch it with a single fluid motion. _Not for long_, Harry thought to himself as his foot press down on someone behind him. The voice as it breathed in air told him it was Hermione.

"I'm not fucking about here. Why?"

Beside him, Hermione asked him in a low whisper what. Malfoy sneered at Harry, "Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?"

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. He ignored Hermione and asked, "What about my scar?"

"Could this possibly be?" Malfoy laughed, and some of his minions laughed with him. As they did so, Harry whispered to Hermione, "Smash the shelves…"

"He never told you? This explains why you didn't come earlier. The Dark Lord wondered why..." Harry mouthed his directions to Hermione, who passed it on to those who surrounded them. The only person not involved was Doc, but Harry saw that he was aiming from the hip now, and wondered what he had in mind, as shooting from the hip was by and large a waste of ammo…

"You didn't come earlier when he showed you the place where it was hidden through your dreams. He thought your natural curiosity would make you want to hear it in its exact, original form for yourself…"

"Did he now? So he wanted me to come and get it then? Why?"

"Why?" Malfoy's voice, full of malicious delight, unnerved Harry slightly, straining his ability to keep his game face on. _Just a few more minutes_, he thought to himself." Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries are those about whom it was made, as Augustus Rookwood informed the Dark Lord."

"And why did he want a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Potter, about both of you…have you not ever wondered why the Dark Lord attempted to kill you as a child, an infant at that?"

Now Harry stared at Malfoy, for the bloody man had hit upon something that he hadn't really thought of until now. Why _had_ the evil son-of-a-bitch tried to kill him well before he was weaned? Why did he do so personally when he had had a stable of psychopaths and animals to do his dirty work for him? Was the answer to that question, and probably quite a few others, was in the glass orb he now clutched in his hands?

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me? And he's made me come and get it for him?" Harry was speaking quietly, his fingers tightening even more around the grit-covered glass.

"Why couldn't he come and get it by himself?"

Lestrange laughed, and launched into a spiel that Harry already knew about why the Dark bastard wouldn't bother giving up the game that that idiot Fudge was playing, and the only way that game would come to an end would be if he showed up in the ministry.

"So he's got you doing his dirty work for him? The way he sent in that snake that slotted Sturgis? He also tried to use Boderick Bode didn't he?" Harry was recalling the last briefing he had had, one in which it had been brought up Boderick Bode had died during activities for the Department of Mysteries.

"Very good, Potter. The Dark Lord knows you do not lack intel…" Whatever he was about say was lost as he stopped, for things degenerated right quick. Harry saw his eyes widen and dart to something to Harry's left. Doc had done something, for Harry had seen at the edge of his peripheral vision a movement; Doc turning and throwing something. That something went into the air before it detonated with a crack into a bright flash of white light and smoke. Harry saw a few candescent bits of white fly out, and coupled with the smoke knew that Doc had thrown a phosphorous grenade. The screams and smell of burnt hair and pork meant that Doc had lobbed it into the group of vampires behind them.

Harry seized the moment, seeing confusion within the ranks of the Death Eaters. "NOW!" he bellowed, and those with wands, as well as himself and Neville using wand-less, cast "REDUCTO!" Bits of wood and glass flew into the air as seven curses flew into the air. Harry once again pushed past the nausea, and bellowed out, "GO! GO! GO!" as he charged at Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. All around them chunks of glass and wood and prophecy orbs were raining around them. Malfoy's goons and the other vampires pretty concerned about not getting hit in the head by one of the glass objects, or chunks of wood. Harry was bellowing at the top of lungs the war cry he had learned during the summer that seemed so long ago as he slammed into their ranks, pushed aside Malfoy and Igachev and knocked the silly bitch Lestrange on her ass and kept going. The vampires in front of him and dispersed and broken for cover, knocking down bookcases to provide cover, and behind him he could hear the popping sound of Doc's CAR-15 as he fired through a magazine in quick order, quick two shot bursts using semi-auto.

Something or someone grabbed the back of his cloak, and Harry, clutching his carbine like a cricket paddle in his left hand, went with the momentum of being pulled and turned and swung. The metal butt hit the Death Eater in the stomach, and he went down with a grunt. Harry didn't bother to shoot, instead letting go and making another run towards the door. He was sprinting, almost like a rugby player with the glass orb tucked into his chest, the carbine trailing and hitting him as he ran. Both his lungs and sides were on fire, but he kept on going. A few bullets whizzed past him, but he could hear shouting in the distance, and it stopped as he slammed open the door and ran in. Twisting, he slammed the door shut and muttered, "Colloportus"

It wasn't much, just a simple locking curse, but maybe enough to buy him a few seconds. Harry paused, and letting his carbine dangle, drew his wand out of the sheath he had on his belt kit, pointed it at several of the cobblestones, and cast the lifting spell that caused some of the stones to rise and stack themselves, leaving the floor barren to a layer of dirt and gravel, and a small wall covering the door. Running forward, Harry saw that he was in another hallway with offices on either side. Like the room he had just bomb-burst out of, these were lit with white light. None of them had doors so instead of ducking into one of those he made a beeline straight to the end of the hallway. There was a solitary door, one Harry hoped was unlocked.

Reaching the doorknob, he turned and pushed, entering as he heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. Not bothering to look, he slammed the door shut and cast a locking spell. Knowing that he had to use his carbine, Harry opened up an ammo pouch and removed the three magazines, which he stuffed into his pocket. Replacing it with the orb, he took a brief moment to look around. Harry saw a bookcase and a metal filing cabinet next to the door, both of which Harry methodically turned over and pushed in front of the door. There was a coffee table, couch, a leather chair that was doubtless very comfortable and a huge oak desk in the room, all of which Harry made use of. Both the table and the chair were light enough he could grab them and toss them onto the stack of furniture he had set in front of the door.

Sweating, and breathing heavy, Harry heard the people slam against the door and knew he didn't have the time to waste. Going over to the desk, he untied his carbine and let it fall to the ground. That done he shoved his wand into a pocket, and used both hands to up end the desk, which crashed, along with the papers and office supplies on it, with a loud clatter. Harry took the grenades he had clipped to his belt kit and set them down on the ground. Straightening the pins on one of the WP grenades, Harry thought to himself, _You're fucking mad_. Nonetheless, the more time they spent attacking him, the more time his friends and Ginny could use to either get away, get help or something…

Harry heard a crash, and looked up to see that one of the vampire crew had brought out an ax and were methodically hacking their way into the room. Whatever the prophecy was, it was important enough that they were approaching his apprehension in the most difficult way possible, which meant they couldn't just go in wands and guns a blazing. Their priority was to get the prophecy, with killing Harry a second and their own lives a distant third priority. This he didn't mind, as this meant he could be flexible while his opponents couldn't, he could make them bend to his will, and if he could do that then he was going to win. Alex had taught him that…

In his view one the stone wall on his right opened, and as Harry swung his carbine over he heard the welcome Southern drawl of Doc yelling, "Thunder!"

Harry responded, "Flash!" They had decided upon a pass-code system that only the Harry and his group would know about before they went into action, one that they would be able to use to recognize each other with in case they got separated. Harry eased away from the trigger and turned his attention back to the door as Doc ran and knelt behind his makeshift firing position.

"What's happening, Harry?"

"Nothing much, how the hell you get here?"

Doc grinned, and reached into a pocket. Before he could answer, "Good trick by the way with the phosphorous. You saw the others?" Doc pulled out a small, circular, brass-looking tin, and starting shaking it between his thumb and middle fingers.

"Nah, they ran through the door we came through, and I took positions behind a desk against one of the walls, when I touched something, and it opened up. I went in and it turned out to be this passage. Call it about fifty meters, zigzagging." Doc stopped, twisted the tin, and opened it to reveal a mass of tightly packed smokeless tobacco. Something called Copenhagen Long-Cut. Pinching a bit the size of his thumbnail, he put it between his lip and gum, worked it with his tongue, and spat a stream of light brown next to Harry. Doc held the tin towards Harry, and said, "Want some?" Harry thought about it a moment, looked towards the door (which was still giving the vampires trouble) and shrugged. Aping Doc's motions, he took a bit of the tobacco, and stuffed it between his lip and gums.

To the accompaniment of the sound of the axes hammering into their door, Doc advised, "Now pack it in with your tongue and don't swallow or you'll be in a world of hurt." Harry pressed the tip of his tongue to push the tobacco into a compact mass in his mouth, and spat once he started salivating. While he preferred to smoke, the tobacco was smokeless, and nicotine did help him calm his nerves at times like this…

Spitting, Harry picked up his carbine, and turned his attention back to the barricade. By now he could see that there was enough of a hole to make out the dark shapes of the vampires coming through. Harry tightened his grip on the carbine, thumb making sure the safety was off and trigger finger outside the trigger well. Turning his head, he spat on the ground, and remarked, "You ever tell a girl you do shit like this with the mouth you kiss her with?" Doc sat with his back against the desk and replied, "Nah, I make sure I brush my teeth first, and try to do this when they ain't looking. Like now." He looked over at Harry, and grinned, specks of tobacco showing between his teeth, "I don't think Ginny will mind too much, though I wouldn't lock lips with her until you got your teeth cleaned."

Harry felt the inside of his guts go liquid on him again, but tried to play it off. "What do you mean, Doc?"

"I ain't stupid, Harry, and after watching the two of you, I know you're seeing each other." Harry looked at him again, and asked quietly. "What makes you say that?" Harry liked Doc, had shared a foxhole and a meal with, had shed blood and tears and sweat together, but he had heard of undercover operations that could, had, gone that far…

Doc must have sensed that Harry didn't trust him, and that Harry probably was starting to size him up for a coffin for he tossed over his carbine, and said to him, "You got the big guns now, and there ain't enough time for me to explain, but you got my piece and even if I had it you probably could put me on ice quicker then spit." Doc's hazel, almond eyes stared at him, glinting, "You either trust me, and are willing to let me watch your back the way we've been doing things since the year began, or you can go ahead and put a round in me. I don't blame you if you do, as I would go to the lengths to defend someone I love, too." He didn't break his gaze with Harry, his voice lowering, "All I ask is you make it quick, and take a few of those bastards coming through the door in front of us." Harry didn't know what to say, looking at the man he had grown to count as part of his circle of friends since that time in the Broomsticks, when Doc had shot the vampires through the table, and took all the fire so they could have time to maneuver. There was Doc, field rations opened before them as they shared an entrenchment out in the Forbidden Forrest, rifles at the ready for God knew what to burst through…

Harry made his mind up in a heartbeat. Tossing over Doc's carbine, Harry picked up his own and set it on the edge of the desk, facing the enemy. Putting his shoulder to the butt, he turned his head back to face Doc and told, "I trust you. Now let's take some of these bastards to hell." He spat for emphasis, and focused his attention on the barricade. Hands were coming through the door now, and if those had been human Harry would have started to open fire, that way he could be sure of wounding and perhaps killing a few. Vampires, though, would only be wounded, and Harry conserved his ammo.

Doc peered over the edge of the desk, and asked, "So whats the game plan, Harry? Rorkes Drift and cold steel?"

"No, we let the bastards burst in, slaughter them, and make our way back to the rally point."

Doc scratched the side of his head, and replied, his voice thoughtful, "Sounds good, but I got an idea…"

Harry, never one to dismiss something out of hand just because he hadn't thought of it, asked, "Let's hear it then…" Doc, mindful that time was short, outlined his plan. Harry quickly saw the merit in it and handed over the materials that Doc wanted to use before turning his attention back to the front where he watched and saw that the bastards were throwing aside the furniture. Part of him was tempted to tell Doc to take over watch while he did it, for if he fucked things up…

Harry kept to his post, as Alex's voice went through his head of trusting ones subordinates. The vampires threw aside the filing cabinets Harry had pushed over, and Harry quickly pushed the switch to full automatic, and squeezed the trigger. Pressing it into his shoulder, he fired off a five round burst that splattered the vampire's head like a ripe melon. The ones behind him backed away, and Harry, his eyes still focused on the doorway, worked his tongue and spat out the rest of the dip before he yelled backed to Doc, "C'mon!" Doc responded by throwing a smoke grenade, and then another. Within three seconds the room was so filled with green and purple smoke that Harry couldn't see shit. Behind him though someone grabbed him by the web gear and dragged. Harry went with it, and felt dirt beneath him. Then there was movement to the front and everything went black.

Only for a moment, though, as Doc, a chem-light strung on his web gear, cracked it and bathed the area in a dim glow. Slapping his shoulder, Doc motioned for Harry to move aside. Harry did so, and watched as Doc, using a trip wire, White Phosphorous grenade, and a plastic spoon wedged into the opposite stonewall's mortar. Doc finished his work, and backed away from the trap, which had been set at waist level.

Keeping silent, he motioned for Harry to follow, which he did, leading him down the tunnel. Tall enough for him to walk erect without having to bend, Harry followed Doc down the tunnel, noticing that it was stonewalls and ceiling, but dirt floor. Straight for about ten meters, it began to zigzag, and Harry found himself getting disoriented before Doc stopped, and began assembling a trap using the Claymore they had. Packing enough metal balls so that it would act like a giant shotgun when detonated, it was guaranteed to fuck anybody over who tripped the wire in the tight space. Doc made sure it would be an even worse time for vampires by attaching a spare blasting cap to a plastic squeeze bottle of kerosene and Styrofoam flakes. Tied in with the mine, a raging hell storm of flame and shrapnel would gust through the passage, tying down the hunters.

They continued onwards, until finally the zigzagging ended at a dead end. Doc held up a hand and motioned for Harry to come forward. Harry did so, and sat down as Doc did likewise. Doc leaned with his back to the wall, and spoke softly, "I don't think they found our way out, but let's be sure. 'Sides," Harry could tell Doc was smirking in the dark, "I'm willing to bet good money that they bastards are still looking for me out there." Harry nodded, and leaned his head back against the cold stonewall. The first question in his mind he asked.

"You still haven't told me how you figured out me and Ginny were an item." Harry kept his eyes closed, as the thought occurred to him that everything he had done, everything him and her gone through in order to ensure that their relationship be kept a secret had been for naught. Inwardly he shivered as he remembered the words of how Voldemort had _felt_ everything he had felt. The idea that he had been present when the two of them had been…

Doc spat, and spoke, "Made a pass at her, got shot down, and wondered why. So I watched, saw how she acted around the others. Same-same with every other contender in the tower or year…" Harry opened his eyes and looked over at his friend. Even in the dimness of the chem.-light, Harry could see the flecks of tobacco staining Doc's teeth as he grinned. "That is until she was around you. I really couldn't put my finger on it, but there seemed to be a change in the way she acted. Just a hunch really…Then when that bastard started talking shit, well..." He shrugged, "One plus one equals two."

Harry sighed, and looked down at his feet. At that moment he felt like the biggest fool in the world, as apparently all he had done seemingly was not tell his friends what was going on, whilst the Dark Bastard knew, known since the beginning probably…

"Harry?" Doc again. He looked towards his friend, who leaned over and set his hand on his shoulder. Doc's eyes glimmered, his jaw set. "You did what anybody would do…"

"What, be too clever by half?"

"No, defend what you love using what you thought was the best method at the time." Harry wasn't convinced of that, and it must have shown on his face for Doc continued, "If you can't believe in that then believe this: you and her and Ron and Nev and Trina and Luna and Hermione are the best friends I have in the world. You're family, and I protect my family. Okay?"

Harry nodded, and Doc nodded in turn before going on, "Right, let's try and get out of this hellhole shall we?" Doc then outlined the new plan: go out into the office, make their way to the large office room, and rendezvous with the rest of the group. Nodding, Harry let Doc take point as he fingered a groove in the wall, and watched the bottom part slide away to create a small crawl space big enough for a fat man to go through. Doc got on his belly and began low crawling. Once his feet were out of the way, Harry got down and followed him. About ten exhausting meters later, covered in sweat and dirt, Harry saw Doc's feet get up and go away as the chem.-light they had been using was left behind at the entrance.

Following Doc, he made it out and saw that they were in the offices they had passed through right before the cathedral room with the prophecies. Only, the crawl space had been near enough desk not to be seen, and Harry kept low, not sure if there were others in the room.

Harry heard a tongue cluck to his right, and saw that Doc had moved to another desk, taking cover behind. Doc held up three fingers, and nodded in front of them. Harry nodded, and listened. Sure enough, he could hear footsteps, a few to his left. Someone coughed, and an English voice muttered for the person to shut it, and to keep a sharp one for the little brats. Harry grinned, feeling the adrenaline start to course through his veins, and held up three fingers to Doc. Slowly, he stared bring them down, and when the last one fell, he raised his head above the desk, aimed his weapon and fired. Doc joined him, and both fired through an entire magazine through their carbines.

The vampires screamed above the popping of the weapons, and Harry watched as they fell. Ducking behind his desk, he yelled "Stoppage" and changed the magazine. As he did so, he saw Doc fire a burst and run across from a desk to another. Harry rose, fired a burst at the head of one of the bodies, and took off. Sprinting towards the same desk as Doc had been at, Harry heard swearing, screaming as even though vampires were dead, they could still feel pain, and a few of the ones that him and Doc had shot at were still alive.

Jumping on and sliding across the top of a desk Harry heard a blast and felt a sting along the right side of his head. As he sat down, he rubbed his head and came away with blood. A shotgun pellet had probably nicked him as he leaned around the corner of his desk, saw the legs of a vampire, and fired a five round burst. The vampire went down, cursing and screaming as he dropped the sawed-off he had been using. Harry aimed, and fired another burst that splattered the vampire's skull across the floor. The screaming stopped, but the body continued to move, to flop in an obscene parody of a fish on land.

Harry heard firing, the desk behind him chipping, sawdust and bits of wood of showering around him as he tucked and rolled to another desk. Leaning up quickly, he fired a burst and ran. Objects on the desktops began to burst from the bullets firing around him. Harry felt the blood from his head leaking onto his neck, and changed the magazine, not sure how many rounds were in his last. Pushing it in, Harry swung it around the corner of the desk, randomly sprayed a burst, and rolled again. He knew he was being sloppy, yet now all he wanted to do was make it to the door, and…

_Where the fuck is Doc!_, the thought occurred to him as Harry rose to full height and began firing. One vampire, and then another went down. Another was hurriedly cracking open his shotgun as Harry emptied the rest of the magazine into his chest and face. Harry was breathing hard through his nose as he saw that he was alone. Changing a fresh magazine, Harry began to go around the room, weapon at the ready. Counting the fallen, Harry came up with three dead vampires, and three wounded…Wounded that soon died as he came up to them and fired short bursts that smeared their blood and brain and bone across the stone floor. Only one was too much in pain not to resist, to lay there as he aimed and fired.

The other two, the first two, made a move for their weapons, and Harry wound up emptying about a magazine a piece into them.

By now his heart rate and breathing were down to somewhat normal levels. Quickly he strode to the door. Harry didn't now where everyone else was at right now, but judging by how the place seemed deserted, he was willing to bet the rally point was the scene of some hot and heavy action. This meant he had better be…

A flash of movement was in the corner of his left eye, but as he turned, bringing his weapon to his shoulder, a loud voice cast, "Stupefy!" Harry mentally tried to cast the blocking spell, but found it too late as it him in the chest and sent him flying through the air. Landing on a desk, Harry felt the wind get knocked out of him as he skidded across the mercifully barren surface and land on the hard stone floor. A burst of pain went through his head, his eyes swimming as the back of his head hit first. Harry tried to focus, but all he could do was watch as a Death Eater slowly walked towards him. Harry saw that it was the Russian with his armband…

Wand drawn, Harry watched numbly as Igachev started to wave it. Harry saw an object fly through the air, hit the Russian in the elbow causing him to pause his spell. It was Doc, who jumped forward, and grabbed the Russian's wrist. The wand was pointed down, Doc and the Russian almost embracing, and then Harry saw a white light, and a rumble as the floor and desks around them exploded. Harry could only curl into a ball, and hope a splinter didn't fillet him.

The air was filled with dust, which caused Harry to cough as he slowly sat up, and dragged his weapon close to him. Palming the pistol grip, Harry got to a knee and took stock. He was bruised, sore, covered with dust and trash from the explosion that had turned the office into a shit heap, but he was still breathing, and he was still armed. Remembering the cause of the little firefight, Harry patted down the ammo pouch where he had kept after a quick pat-down, he still had the glass orb, intact and in his care. Licking a finger, he rubbed off a bit of the grime from his glasses, and wished he hadn't.

Igachev had tried to cast what looked like a detonation spell, only it had been pointed too close to him. The spell had ripped the vampire into pieces, very small pieces and scraps decorated much of the small crater where him and Doc had stood. Igachev's head, the face set in a permanent bewildered grimace, had in a grim bit of humor landed on to of a desk, facing him. Harry shook his head, the slaughterhouse smell of copper and shit and decayed meat deep in his nostrils. Getting up, Harry had one mission at the moment, he had to make it back to his friends, try and make sure that Doc's…

From his left he heard a wheeze or gurgle of some type. Looking over, Harry saw a pair of feet, black combat boots, and walked over to them.

It was Doc.

The explosion hadn't removed any limbs, but what it had done was horrible enough in it's own way. Stone and wooden splinters had peppered him with a thousand small cuts, though it looked like his eyes were all right. One large chuck had clipped his jaw, so that it hung by a tendril of flesh and muscle. Another large splinter had slit his stomach, so that his intestines were splayed over his torso like a thousand snakes. The odor from that wound smelled as though a septic tank had been opened.

Doc's intestines quivered and seemed to squirm, like a mound of worms just unearthed.

Harry turned his head and vomited.

It took him only a moment, for he hadn't had much to eat or drink since the testing earlier in, and as soon as he felt he was somewhat under control he jumped over to his buddy and knelt next to him. The gurgling and coughing that was starting wasn't good: something, probably fragments of his jaw, was caught in the windpipe. Harry took his right hand, and stuck the index and middle fingers down Doc's windpipe. Going into the bloody mess, he pawed out a few fragments, and soon Doc wasn't coughing. Harry looked at his friend, and saw that he was mercifully out of it. The breathing and a faint pulse were all that indicated Beauregard Jackson Detibedeux was still in the land of the living.

Carefully, Harry set Doc's jaw back where it would have been connected. Then he ripped open a dressing from Doc's web gear, and bound it around Doc's face. Snug, but not too tight, Harry finished tying the dressing before turning his attention to Doc's abdomen. For that, all Harry could do was gently pile the intestines and other detritus that was his friend, and use Doc's bandolier (after he had emptied it of rounds) and handkerchief spread out on it. That he soaked with a bit of water from his canteen, to keep the whole mess somewhat damp….

Harry leaned away from Doc, dry-heaved, and staggered up to his feet. Grabbing hold of Doc's web gear, Harry began dragging his friend with his left hand, his right holding his carbine. Harry didn't bothering looking for Doc's weapon, and moved towards the door. Slowly, painfully so to Harry as he realized that the probability of someone stumbling in to find them was getting more and more likely the more time they used to link up with everyone else….

In front of him he could hearing yelling, what had to be gunfire…Harry sighed, and decided it was all or nothing, as the only way out was through the front. Crouching, he gently pushed the door open. In front of him was a wizard, Harry wasn't sure who exactly, yet nonetheless had his wand raised and his back to Harry. Harry stitched him, a good burst that flung the Death Eater to the ground like a rag doll. A redoubt of desks and office furniture was in the right corner of the room, which was where Harry supposed everyone else was at. It was a good twenty paces, not much really…unless one was under fire. Harry gritted his teeth, knelt and picked up Doc. Cradling his friend next to his chest, ignoring the stench of him, hoping that he wouldn't drop a man weighing a good buck twenty as Doc would call it and ran. At the top of his lungs he bellowed "Thunder", hoping his friends would see that he was a friend, not a foe.

Harry couldn't really make sense of what was happening next, almost as though he had no control over his body. Running, dodging and evading desks and smashed furniture, Neville's voice over the din for cover fire, shotgun blasts, feeling rounds go past him. One thing he did realize was making it to the redoubt, hands taking Doc away from him, another pulling him over and down to the ground…

Katrina slapped him, and yelled at him, "Harry!" Harry blinked, the world coming into focus now. Neville kneeling over Doc, his med kit open as Luna held up an IV, Doc adding dressings, making sure Doc was breathing, not bleeding, and not in shock. Katrina, a cut marring her forehead, was in front of him, holding up one of his canteens. Harry took a sip, swished and spat, and drank a large gulp. Taking a look around, he saw Ron on the ground, giggling and acting drunk, and Hermione and Ginny throwing stunners.

"Are you all right?" Katrina.

Harry nodded, then moved over to Doc and Neville. "He gonna make it?" Neville was fixing his cloak around Doc, both to keep him warm and to hide the ghastly wounds, and he shrugged, "The odds are stacked, but since he's made it this far he's got a chance. Not much, but a chance still." Harry looked away from Doc to Ron, who was giggling like a madman. Neville saw that and explained about their running firefight from the room of the prophecies to one filled with a bunch of planets. One had exploded in Ron's face, and he had been bloody mental ever since. They had made their way to the office, and threw up a small redoubt, and waited for him and Doc. Harry leaned back and pulled out the orb from it's pouch, where it had remained undamaged. Staring at it, Harry asked, "Anybody else dinged?"

"Ginny got hit by a Stunner, and I think her ankles shot."

"I'M FINE!" Ginny yelled after firing a stunner. She moved towards them but as she did so she stumbled and fell. Harry went to her, and helped her up. She breathed out a thank you, but Harry could tell she was in pain. Harry sat her down, and sat next to her, tucking away the orb once more.

"You gonna be all right?" She nodded, and Harry looked around at his friends. All were looking at him, at least those that weren't trading shots with the bastards surrounding them. Neville, who had been fixing an IV to Doc, asked as he worked, "Any ideas?"

Truth be told, he didn't have an idea what to do now. All he did know was the variables: they were short on ammo, they had something which the other side was willing to play dirty and for keeps in order to get, they had a wounded, time was running out, they didn't have much pyrotechnics…

Harry paused, and the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. Looking over at Neville, he asked, "Could you rig something up for me, to help Doc?" Neville paused, and looked up. "Depends, what the plan?"

* * *

"You're bloody mad, Potter. I hope you realize that?" Neville was next to Harry, both of them listening as Hermione and the other girls fired off stunner after stunner. It had taken only three minutes to get the plan ready for action, but to Harry it had felt like a life-time. Harry looked over at his friend, and asked him, "Any brilliant alternates then?" Neville shrugged, "Bollocks, man. We don't have fuck else to do." Neville slowly got up and peered over the top of a desk. He duck back down and said, "They're all around the hallway. We'll be having one hell of a drama, mate." Harry nodded, and got ready. Doc did like wise, and began counting backwards from three.

"Two…One…Now!" With that they began tossing every grenade they had in their possession. White phosphorous plumed white together with the sharp explosions of fragmentation grenades. Harry heard screaming, the chemical odors of the smoke grenades, and the pork scent of burnt flesh. Harry barked, "Number Two section, number one section cover fire." Neville mimicked the orders, and then both opened fire. The two of them had quickly taken stock, and discovered that, pooled and split amongst themselves, they had about two magazines, one of which was pure tracer rounds, apiece. While Harry had conserved his ammo, Neville had been going through rounds like water.

Not that that was something against him. Outnumbered, the only chance the others had had in order to make it as far as they had had been to use every bit of firepower at their disposal. Now, Harry and Neville and the rest were about to do similar.

The exact terminology was called a Mad Minute, at least in the American military. It was where every available weapon was brought to bear, and here, Harry and Neville was doing just that, firing an entire magazine of tracers. The yelling and commands were deception, an attempt to psyche the enemy out through fire and smoke and light. Both changed magazines before Harry and Neville went over the top, firing their weapons into the smoke. Behind them were the girls, dragging Ron and helping Ginny. Doc had been hidden in the rubble of office furniture, an IV attached to him. Harry hoped that they would be able to make it to friendly hands in time for a rescue to be conducted…If not, then he was dead anyways…

Harry bellowed, feeling his guts ache from the stress as he used his diaphragm to sound off. In front of him was a vague shape; Harry moved his weapon to fire, but seeing as how he had kept his weapon on the trigger the moment they were moving forward all he heard was the click as he squeezed the trigger once more and nothing. Unfazed, Harry moved forward quickly; saw that it was a vampire with his pasty skin who was bringing his rifle to his shoulder. He didn't hesitate, striding forward he stepped and brought the butt of his carbine into the man's face. The vampire went down, and attempted to strike back, but Harry was faster. His foot went down to the vampire's head, kicking like a football to stun him. Harry quickly changed the magazine to his last one, and put three rounds into the vampire.

Neville ran up to him and yelled, "C'mon!" By now the smoke and confusion was reaching epic proportions. Harry watched as vampires stumbled past them and their group obviously thinking they were casualties from the fight. Obviously section commanders were using the smokescreen to try and move in. Harry was both glad, and anxious: glad because the less attention they drew the more likely they would get away in the confusion, but anxious because the vengeful blood suckers could find Doc.

The group moved quickly, ignored by the excited vampires. A few of the more alert ones spotted them, and him and Neville hosed them down. Harry mentally counted down to about fifteen rounds as their way to door. Just as they reached he heard a nasal voice yell and a purple beam of light went through the air. Hermione, who had been helping Ginny limp with them, was hit right in the chest. She went down, and Harry heard an animalistic scream. It took a moment for it to occur to him that it was his own voice.

Before that, he had spotted the son-of-a bitch and emptied the rest of the magazine into him. Harry only stopped when he realized that he was out of ammo, and before was nothing but a quivering pile of meat. Untying the bootlace, he ditched his carbine, and ran over to Hermione, who was being looked over by Neville. Nev, too, no longer had his carbine, as they had drawn the attention of two vampires who had to be dispatched by the eighteen or so high-velocity rounds he had had left.

He looked up at Harry as he came over and shook his head, "Not zapped. She's breathing, faint pulse. I'll carry her." Neville picked her up in a fireman's carry as Harry nodded and took point once more. Luna helped Ginny as Katrina took over babysitting Ron as they kept going, and made it through the door. Harry felt relieved as he cast a locking charm on the door as they shut it behind them once they were in the circular room that branched off into the others.

That relief didn't last as the door from the one they had left slammed open and a female Death Eater stood there. Harry recognized her as Bellatrix Lestrange the moment she opened her mouth and commanded, "There they are!" This time he didn't bother doing anything, just kicked open the door right next to they had exited and went in. Curses and hexes cracked the walls around them as they went in. Luna was dragging Hermione as Katrina helped Ginny, who sealed the door as Neville, and her brother slid in.

Harry saw that they were in the Brain Room now, surrounded once more by the human brains suspended in glass jars filled with green liquid. More importantly, they were surrounded by doors, multiple avenues of attack by the Death Eaters. Ginny and Luna began sealing the other doors as Katrina looked over Hermione. Neville calmed Ron down a bit and sat him next to Hermione and Katrina before making his way over to Harry. "Harry, you lose your short?" Nev was referring to his Browning, which he carried on his hip. Harry shook his head, and was about to ask Neville where his was when he remembered Nev had left his with Doc, in case he regained consciousness, and needed a piece.

The last door that Luna was about seal burst open, and in came Bellatrix and four other Death Eaters. What followed was pure wand work. Luna was about to cast the locking curse on the door when she got hit by a red beam, flew over a desk and landed on the other side and didn't move. Ginny cast a full-body bind that tripped one Death Eater, but Katrina got hit by two stunners that slammed her across the room into unconsciousness as she got up from examining Hermione.

Now it was Harry, Ginny and Neville against four Death Eaters. Ron giggled and everything stopped as he levitated one of the brains toward him. Everything stopped as all looked at him, and Harry found himself yelling a warning. It didn't matter, as the tentacles wrapped themselves around his best friend. Ginny screamed at Harry to do something, and Harry cast a hex that slowed them down. Ginny screamed that her brother was being suffocated. She couldn't move, her broken ankle holding her down. It was then a red beam hit her in the face. Ginny keeled over unconscious.

Harry saw red, his chest tight, but was quickly brought to his senses when, in one of the rare flukes of nature soldiers like to talk about, five curses aimed at him hit everything else around him but him. Craters were formed in the walls now as bits of the stones flew in a cloud around him. The nicks and cuts he got as a result brought him off of the panic cloud real quick. Neville went down, as one of the curses sent a black paperweight flying through the air that smacked into his face, his wand snapping in a burst of sparkles as it got caught with his fall. Harry saw a blur of blood and made a break for the door that the other Death Eaters had come through. Inside he prayed for help, for Neville to help Ron who was turning purple with a tentacle around his neck, for Ginny to still be alive, and that the mad dash he was doing now would buy them the time to get the hell out of here.

Harry kept his pistol holstered, but as he ran he yanked out the prophecy from his ammo pouch and held it high. Sure enough, the curses thrown at him stopped, and behind him he could hear them following close behind him. It was all Death Eaters now, the vampires obviously distracted still, and they ignored his friends as they sent furniture flying in order to catch up with him. Harry bomb-burst through the door…and started to fall down stairs, a lot of them. Downwards he fell until he came to a painful stop against a stone tier bench with a thud that socked the wind out of him. It was fortunate that he had twisted to his side so that his head hadn't been cracked on the way down. Harry noticed that he was in the room with the arch again. By some miracle he still had the orb clutched in his hand undamaged.

Dizzy, Harry focused his eyes above him, and saw that the bastards were going into the room, laughing at him. Shaking, he got up and jumped over the tier, and saw that the Death Eaters were slowly making their way towards him. By now all had abandoned their masks, and Harry could make out individual features. Slowly, as they drew closer, Harry backed away, climbing on to the dais with the arch. Panting, he watched as they appeared from doors surrounding the pit. A few limped; there was the Death Eater whom Ginny put in a full-body bind advancing on him grinning, his wand pointing at him. Harry recognized him as Dolohov, one of the fugitives from Azkaban. Ginny's hex had done some damage, as the Death Eater's nose looked crooked, blood pouring out of it in thin rivulets. Harry guessed that he had fallen on his face.

Malfoy, his hair mused and face sweating moved towards, him as the others stopped and began encircling him. Next to him was Bellatrix, her eyes sparkling with cruelty. Malfoy did the talking:

"Your race is run Potter… Now hand over the prophecy." Malfoy emphasized his point by aiming his wand with the rest at Harry.

Harry felt empty, and wondered if the men of the old 44th, surrounded and the last survivors of the Kabul column during the First Afghan War, had felt the same right before the end in that godforsaken pass in 1841.

"E's na a'one! E's got e!" Everyone turned, and saw Neville Longbottom, blood gushing from his nose like Dolohov's, someone's wand in hand. Neville was like a drunk, staggering and running down the steps. One of the Death Eaters, not thinking him a threat, got behind him and tried pinning his arms. Longbottom threw his head back, and Harry chalked another broken nose up for the night. The Death Eater swore, let him go, and Neville yelled "STUBEFY!"

Nothing, and this time one of the beefier Death Eaters disarmed him by slugging him in the stomach, and then yanking his wand arm behind him. Another came up, and did the same with his other arm while yelling for someone to stun him. Malfoy and Lestrange both recognized him, Malfoy sneering that his death wouldn't come as much of a shock to his grandmother, who was probably used to hearing about the death of family members to Voldemort's cause.

Lestrange cackled, and a smile that made Harry's blood run cold came upon her face. "Longbottom…" She murmured, and went over to Nev, who was struggling against the grip of two burly Death Eaters. Harry guessed it would have been Crabbe and Goyle senior. The two were holding on, barely, as Neville strained against the people holding on to him. Harry guessed he was so crazed he was forgetting about a lot of the little tricks they had learned, only wanting to get close and destroy Lestrange. Neville was cursing, cursing at her in terms that came out even more obscene because of Neville's broken nose.

She only smiled, and wondered how if Neville would last longer or shorter then his parents had. They were going to find out, she mused, unless Potter turned over the prophecy. Neville roared at his friend, "Don' give the slag shit, Ha…" That was as far as he got before the slag shrieked, "CRUCIO!" Neville, who had kicked back so that his feet were off the ground for a second, turned his curses and struggling into a scream of agony. His captors dropped him then, falling on to the stone ground, twitching, and his back jack-knifing. Lestrange raised her wand, and Neville stopped twitching, instead curling into a sobbing ball.

"That was just a taster," she snarled, "Hand over the prophecy, Potter, or you can watch your friend die the hard way!"

Harry shut his eyes and sighed. The orb felt like a billion kilos in his hand. It wasn't much of a choice, as there was no way he could willingly watch one of his friends die screaming and not do something.

It was then two of the doors above them slammed opened, and five people came in at a dead sprint: Kingsley, Moody, Tonks, Lupin, and Sirius. Malfoy and his goons turned to face the new threat, and Harry heard the shouts as Stunners and other hexes flew through the air. This he heard as he leaped off the dais on to the ground. Spotting Neville crawling away and up from the action to the cover of the benches, Harry clutched the orb and ran over to his friend. Dropping as a hex flew over his head to burst a bit of rock, he yelled at Neville, "You all right?" Neville nodded, and used his hand to straighten his nose with a sickening crack.

"Ron?" Harry had to ask.

"Think so, he got the tentacle off and was breathing last I…" Neville stopped as a spell cratered the ground beside him, spraying both with chips of stone. Quickly, the two began crawling on the ground, trying to keep behind benches. Out of nowhere an arm came out and encircled Harry by the neck. Before he could react, he found himself struggling to breath, held up before some masked bastard so close he could smell his rancid breath, and his toes scraping the ground. Whoever it was leaned close to his ear, and hissed, "Give it to me, give me the prophecy." The man flexed his fingers, Harry could feel the increased pressure digging into his windpipe. Desperately, Harry clawed his right hand down his side, touching his shoulder holster.

Neville came out of nowhere, his fighting knife drawn. He stumbled, but the blade he managed to slam into the Death Eater's calf. The Death Eater screamed, dropped Harry to turn and viciously kicked Neville in the side that sent him flying like a football. Harry, gasping for breath, tried to roll away, but the Death Eater leaped towards him, one hand around Harry's throat again while grabbed Harry's head and slammed it, hard, against the stone. Harry's vision blurred into a world of pain, but he forced himself to concentrate on drawing it from his holster. Feeling it get loose, but the bastard McNair (Harry recognized him from third year as the whoreson who had tried to zap Buckbeak) almost had his hands on the orb. Harry could feel his head getting lighter, but forced himself to use muscle memory.

Right thumb flicking down the safety to off, next the hammer cocked back. Harry wasn't sure if a round was in the chamber or not, or even if he had to do it, but everything now was dice rolling. Things seemed to go slow, though Harry would never be sure if it was mental or merely the fact he was close to being choked to death. His right hand, Browning in hand, jamming the muzzle underneath McNair's chin, no sound as he felt himself pull the trigger. McNair's eyes widened as a spray of blood and brain and bone shot out of the top of his head like a geyser. The aroma of human shit, and the copper stench of blood wafted assailed Harry's senses. McNair's hands loosened slightly, dampness on Harry's trousers.

Harry wasn't sure if it was because of McNair, or because of his rather close brush with death. Weakly, he pried loose himself and crawled over to Neville. Laying with his back against the bench, he was looking down at the fighting going on below them, his eyes dazed and confused. Harry reached him, and then threw himself flat across Neville, as a couple of hexes flew over them.

Raising his head, he saw that it was Dolohov, who started to mouth something and make a slashing movement with his wand. Harry mentally threw up the Shield Charm, but still felt something streak the side of his head. Dolohov looked like he was going to cast it again, but this time he got interrupted when Sirius slammed into from his side and sent him stumbling down the steps. The Death Eater wasn't fazed and Harry watched with morbid fascination as he recovered and the two of them dueled, using their wands almost like swords. Protego, stupefy, and all the others that Harry knew.

Harry dropped his pistol on to the bench, drew his wand, and screamed "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" It hit Dolohov in the back, and the man's legs and arms snapped together, almost cartoon-like. Dolohov fell on his back, and rolled like a log down the rest of the way to the bottom. Sirius roared with laughter, and yelled over at Harry, "Nice one Harry!" He bounded over to him and Neville and forced them to duck as a jet of green light went over their heads. Harry saw Tonks, swirl and get hit in the chest fall to the ground. Lestrange, her face in that grin of hers, ran towards the dais, where melee was still taking place. Sirius's eyes glinted, but he turned to Harry and yelled, "Get Nev and the prophecy and get the fuck out of here!" With that he got up and bounded back to the fight.

Harry stooped, picked up his pistol and jammed it into his holster. Then he turned, grabbed one of Nev's arms, and slung it over his shoulder. Nev groaned and muttered, "Fuck got me in the ribs."

"Can you walk?"

Nev grunted and slowly the two of them made their way to the door. Someone lunged at them out of the corner of his eye, and both of them fell to the ground. Harry desperately held the orb up high, and felt a weight on top of him, the point of a wand between his ribs. "The prophecy, give me the prophecy now, Potter!" Lucius Malfoy behind him, putting Harry in a headlock.

"Fuck you!" Harry snarled, and then barked, "Catch, Nev!" He brought his arm back and threw it. Neville laying against a bench, got his wits about and caught it close to his chest. Malfoy swung to point his wand at him, but Harry pointed his over his shoulder and yelled, "Impedimenta!" Malfoy flew off of him, damn near taking Harry's head with him. Harry swung around and watched Malfoy slam into the stone dais, yet still get up and point his wand at them again.

Harry rose, about to throw a detonation curse at the elder Malfoy and turn him into very small lumps of meat when Lupin jumped in front of Harry. "Harry, get the others and go!" Lupin turned and fired a curse at Malfoy, who had to roll out of the way to avoid being hit. Not needing a reminder, Harry grabbed Neville by the arm together they started climbing the steps again. Neville stuffed the prophecy into a robe pocket.

A stray spell hit the step they had just stepped on, causing it and parts of the benches to crumple and cave-in. What had been a sloping staircase got turned by the power of the spell into a good ten-meter vertical drop. Harry managed to scrabble forward, but Neville, weakened pretty good by his wounds, collapsed off of Harry's shoulder and was barely holding on. Harry grunted, dropped down to his knees and grabbed hold of Neville's left arm and robes. "C'mon, push, Neville." Neville grimaced, his face red as he by sheer willpower forced himself up. Harry helped by pulling, but as he did so Harry heard a rip, and saw the side of Neville's robes he had been pulling held the orb in it!

It opened Neville heard it too, and threw a hand to catch it, but all it did was bounce off of his grimy, bloody hand. Neville and Harry watched helplessly as it fell and smashed on the rubble below them. A ghostly figure with huge eyes arose out of the broken glass, but it was too far away for either to make out the words. Neville swore, and started to apologize, but Harry waved him off. "Let's just get the others and fuck off."

Neville nodded weakly, and tried to get up but stopped. His face lit up and he yelled, "Dubbledore!"

"What?"

"DUBBLEDORE!" Neville pointed over Harry's shoulder, to the door above and behind them.

Harry turned, and saw Dumbledore, his face pale and furious, wand raised and advancing. Over the summer, he had read a line that there came a moment in a battle or conflict when one knew, when the opponent turned tail and had his back to you, that you had the battle in hand and it was yours. Harry felt a surge of electricity go through his body, elation because the situation was well at hand, despite the wounds, despite the fact Alex was still missing…Dumbledore had arrived, and all was well…

For a man of his advanced age, the Headmaster moved quick, sprinting down the stares. He had reached the last step before the Death Eaters in the melee realized he was there. A cry of panic seemed to go through their ranks, as one of them tried to run away. With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore brought the man down and dragged him back. The other Death Eaters didn't need any prompting, throwing down their wands raising their hands above their heads.

Still, there was still some combat, as Lestrange and her cousin Sirius Black were still eagerly clashing wands on the dais with the arch. Bellatrix fired a red jet of light. Sirius ducked it, rose laughing and yelling, "Come on, you can do better then that!"

He was still laughing as a second jet hit him in the chest. Then his eyes went wide as he fell, time going slow, totally and completely through the veil.

Bellatrix Lestrange screamed in triumph…

Author's Note: Before you get upset and go off skulking, keep reading as all will be explained in due course.


	40. Chapter XXXX: Alex

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I, but to reiterate, I'm not getting a penny out of this, just an intellectual exercise in what could have been.

Note: Two more after this. These last three were the most dangerous to write as I've been incorporating the most of Bk. V canon into these last three chaps. Oh and please be patient, just a little longer, as all will be explained in due time.

**Chapter XXXX: Alex**

Harry didn't really know what happened. One moment he had been up the steps with Neville, when Sirius had gotten hit and fallen through the arch. Next thing he realized he was sprinting down the steps, wand drawn but at his side, Lestrange with her scream in his head. Harry didn't know what the hell he was doing really, and waited for Sirius to jump out from behind the veil. The jet hadn't been green; all it had been was a stunner. For a man like Sirius, he should be able to dust himself off, get up from behind the arch, still laughing the way he had been.

Yet the arch stayed still.

"Sirius! SIRIUS!" Harry yelled.

Reaching the foot of the dais, chest burning as he had been sprinting the rest of the way, Harry thought to himself, _He's hit pretty bad_…

As he started to go up it, Lupin stepped in front of him, holding him still by his chest, the way a rugger tackled someone.

"Let go! We need to get Sirius!" Harry spoke hurriedly, trying to get out of Lupin's grip. Remus though, shook him, and then said, his voice heavy. "He's gone, Harry."

Harry didn't hear him at first, explaining, "We got to get him, Moony, he's hit!"

"Harry, there's nothing we can do…"

Harry stopped, turned to Lupin.

"Come again?"

"There's nothing we can do. He's gone, Harry."

Harry heard a roaring in his ears, as the full weight of the meaning in those words hit him. Around him he knew there were still fighting, but nothing really registered. The headmaster seemed to be mopping up the remaining Death Eaters, unmasking them: Rookwood, Crabbe the Elder, Goyle the Elder, Nott, Avery, Jugson, Dolohov, Malfoy the Elder. Kingsley Shacklebolt took off, and was soon crossing wands with Bellatrix…

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!" Harry didn't believe Lupin, he wouldn't. After all, hadn't he just had that false vision of him and Alex laying bleeding on the ground, so life-like yet so goddamn false? Harry kept pushing forward; Sirius was going to come out from behind the veil, laugh and get the job finished.

"He can't come back, Harry" Harry stopped then, as Lupin's voice sounded huskier, the voice breaking.

"He's dead, Harry." Now that it had been said, Harry felt as though he had been hit in the stomach, and he stopped as the thoughts he had kept in the back of his head, that if Sirius wasn't not appearing in this firefight, not when Harry called for him and his best friend were in danger, then he really wasn't coming back. That he really was dead…

The strength went out of him, and Lupin dragged him away from the dais, and sat him on a bench. Harry breathed, and saw, but nothing really registered.

"Harry?"

It was Neville who had limped, every breath a painful one, down the stairs. His hair was dusty, and grimy, his robe gone for a blanket, his tie for a tourniquet, white shirt and belt kit splattered with blood. Harry looked at his friend, with whom he had shared and done a lot with in a pretty short time, his mind empty. Neville threw an arm around Harry's neck, and hugged him. "I'm sorry, mate, I'm sorry." A distant part of Harry's mind registered that his friend was there, but all he could do was nothing, everything numb and empty.

Lupin, who had turned away from them for a moment, turned back to them. His face was pale, even in the dim light of the room. "All right…Let's find the others." He took a deep a breath. "Where are they all, Neville?" Every word seemed to be forced, and he had his back turned to the arch as he spoke. Neville got up, leaving Harry sitting alone, still staring at the arch.

"Doc's in an office, he's pretty bad. Hermione's got hit pretty bad, but she's got a pulse. Ron got hit by a brain, but I think…"

There was a loud bang, almost like a gunshot, and Harry's was snapped out of his stupor. Kingsley fell, screaming as he hit the ground. Dumbledore fired something, but she deflected it, and started sprinting up the stairs.

Harry leapt to his feet, wand out, in hot pursuit. Vaguely he could hear Neville and Lupin yelling for him, but he ignored them as he took to jumping up the benches. He saw the hem of her robes disappear through a doorway, and Harry found himself back in the brain room.

She heard him, as she sent a curse at him that caused the tank of brains to rise and spill. The foul-smelling mess, reeking a lot like piss, deluged him, and he could feel the tentacles, but waved his wand and shouted "Wingardium Leviosa!" The brains rose in the air as Harry slipped and slid to wards the door. He jumped over Luna, who was on the floor moaning, past Ginny (awake with her back to a desk) who said, "Harry-Whats" with Katrina slumped next to her. Ron was still on the ground, giggling like a madman, and Hermione was, as before, out like a light bulb.

Wrenching open the door, he spotted Bellatrix as she slammed shut the door she had gone through. Harry jumped in, but could only swear foully as the torches spun with the room. "WHERE'S THE FUCKING EXIT? WHERE'S THE BLEEDING WAY OUT!" Harry yelled in fury. The questions must have done the trick, for a door sprung open, and Harry ran into it to find himself in the hallway leading into the lifts. One of them had just closed, and Harry ran up to it, and mashed the call button. One second, then another, Harry getting more and more impatient by the second…

Another second, and Harry heard the chime of a lift arriving. Before the doors were fully open he forced his way in, and mashed the button marked 'Atrium'. Doors closed, and Harry slid his wand back in his holster before drawing his Browning once more. Pulling the slide to rear, he saw that a round was in the chamber. The training he had received showed, for even though he hadn't thought of it, the safety was on. Holding the pistol loosely in his right hand, he used his left to hold his wand again. If shit got bad, he was going to drop his pistol, and stick with his wand, and the blade he kept close.

The lift chimed, and the gates opened. Lestrange had made it to the other side of the room. Harry stepped out, raised his right hand and fired. It missed, though Bellatrix turned at the noise, right before she got on the telephone lift. Harry sprinted towards her, straight path. She snarled a spell at him, and he dodged behind the fountain with the magical statues. The gates of the atrium rang like a bell when the spell hit it.

"Come out, come out, little Harry!" She mocked, her voice echoing off the wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? To find your mudblood uncle? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"

"Both!" Harry bellowed, his voice echoing back.

"Aaaah, did you love him, little baby Potter? The way you loved your uncle too?" She laughed once more, and Harry felt hatred go through him as never before, so much that he could taste it. Turning from behind the cover of the fountain, he leveled his wand and shouted, "CRUCIO!" He was rewarded by a scream, but as he brought up his pistol to put a round into her, his eyes widened as Bellatrix jumped to her feet. She wasn't down and screaming the way Nev had been…

Bellatrix was no longer laughing, as she raised her wand and sent a counter-spell that beheaded the statue of the wizard behind which Harry took cover.

"Never used an Unforgivable before, have you, boy?" She wasn't mocking him now. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain, to enjoy it. Righteous anger and so-called imagined feelings won't hurt me for long!" She was stalking him, creeping ever slowly around the statues. Harry held his pistol close, as the next chance he got he was going to shoot to wound…There was still much they had need to discuss.

Bellatrix came upon him, screamed "Crucio!". Harry ducked again, this time the behind a centaur which had its arm go airborne.

"Potter, you cannot win against me!" Harry ignored her ranting, stepping into the fountain, trying to get an edge on her. "I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the Dark Arts from his hands, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to…"

Harry interrupted her, "Stupefy!" As soon as he said it he raised his pistol and fired two rounds. Both missed, and Bellatrix responded to his curse like with a speed he barely had time to duck, this time in the cold water of the fountain.

"Protego!" Harry's own Stunner flew back at him and this time the ear flew off of the elf. Keeping low, Harry crawled through the water, keeping to the legs of the statues. Lestrange circled slowly, yelling, "This is your last chance, Potter. Give me the prophecy and I'll let you leave here alive." Harry wasn't going to leave quite yet, and he wasn't going to finish things just quite yet either.

"Tell you what," Harry started, "I'll make a deal with you."

"And what might that be?" She sneered.

"Tell me if you're still holding my uncle."

Harry's request was greeted by a gale of cackling, scathing laughter. Now Harry scowled, and felt his trigger finger brush against the cold metal of the trigger guard. _Control yourself a little longer_, he thought to himself. Before he could do anything she began speaking, her voice amused, barely controlling her laughter.

"The mudblood? Oh indeed we are, he is a very entertaining source of amusement." She laughed, "Your uncle is a very stout specimen for a mudblood, why he has lasted longer then anyone I know under the curse." Harry had little doubt as to what curse she was referring to.

Before he could react, she stopped laughing, and continued moving around the statues. Harry crawled backwards, trying to keep some distance between the two of them. Part of him wanted to put a round in her, play the end game to its conclusion. Another part of him, though, wanted to observe, see how far things went.

"For the last time, give me the prophecy, and I will let you live." She held her wand out in front of her, and it was then something in Harry snapped.

Harry leaned back against the wall of the fountain, and roared with laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lestrange stop, her face now perplexed. Harry continued to roar, taking a breath, and yelling at her, "Then you'll have to kill me, you slag! It broke when I was helping Neville up the stairs and it fell." Harry found he didn't care anymore, and watched the expression of terror on Lestrange's face with amusement. The scar on his head started to throb.

"Oh your lord will be so upset now. He knows, Lestrange, he knows." Bellatrix was turning even paler then he thought possible, and he found that amusing. She screamed that it wasn't possible, that he was lying, and tried calling the prophecy to her. Harry laughed even harder, though his head felt as though the scar was going to burst open. Then Lestrange fell to her knees, and began screaming for the Dark Lord to not punish her, that she had tried. Harry rose to his feet, and roared a great belly laugh. "Go ahead, waste your breath. He can't hear you."

"Can't I, Potter?", said a high, cold voice to his rear. Harry tensed, keeping his pistol by his side casually as he turned ever so slowly.

A pair of red-eyes and a serpentine face glared at him malevolently. Voldemort was still the same, bone white skin and red eyes and the slits for a nose. He stepped towards Harry, and began talking, his tone devoid of emotion.

"So all of my plans, all of the efforts of my faithful Death Eaters, have been for naught? That all the months of effort, and the sacrifices of my servants have once again been stopped by you, Potter?"

Harry saw he had his wand out now, and it was rising. Muscle memory took over. Right arm rose, slightly bent at the elbow to take some of the recoil. At a distance of three meters he wasn't worried about missing. Harry squeezed the trigger, gently but quickly, the Browning coming alive in his hands. Aiming center mass, Harry went through the remaining ten rounds before he lowered it.

Voldemort hadn't even blinked as he lazily waved his wand, and a large glowing red wall arose. Harry recognized as it as a fire shield wall charm, and watched helplessly as his bullets struck the wall and were incinerated. Voldemort then just as lazily waved his wand and the wall dissipated.

"That was amusing, Potter. Now for something just as amusing…" Again, the Dark Lord wordlessly waved his wand, and a figure popped at the end of it to land at his feet. Voldemort muttered something, and the figure rose, back straight and staring at Harry.

It was Alex. His uniform was dirty, grimy, wet, and tattered. The boots on his feet were there, still laced, but his face had a haggard crazed appearance with its bruises and cuts. Alex's eye socket was empty, gazing at Harry balefully while his hands were bound by wire in front of him. Alex hawked and spat, before looking up at Harry again and commanded, his voice coarse and raspy.

"Harry, do the world a favor and ki…" Alex screamed hoarsly as Voldemort muttered something, and pointed his wand at Alex. Blood fountained out of a hole in Alex's chest, where his sternum would have been. "This a very amusing curse I perfected over the years, as the organs of this individual will slowly dissolve over the course of an hour and empty through that hole." Voldemort sounded disinterested, and moved his wand away. Alex dropped to the ground, moaning. Harry was frozen, the events happening totally out of his control now.

"He will be joining you shortly, Potter, as I have nothing more to say to you. You have annoyed me for the last time. AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort barked the spell and the green light went to Harry.

It didn't hit Harry, instead showering him with dust as it smashed into the statue of the wizard, who had come to life and thrown itself in front of Harry. Voldemort stared, "What…" He turned, and both saw Albus Dumbledore standing at the golden gates. The Dark Lord moved towards the Headmaster, and the two began dueling. Voldemort cast a Killing Curse, and watched it get deflected by Fawkes, who burst into flames and fell to the ground as squalling chick.

Harry watched, but nothing really registered. Then he snapped out of his stupor, reached down and grabbed his uncle beneath his arms. Harry dragged him to one of the pillars, hoping to take cover behind hit, but Alex raised his bound hands and said something too low for Harry to hear. Harry stopped, drew his knife and slit his uncle's bindings. Then he leaned in.

"Let…me…watch…" Alex forced out, every word an effort. Harry shook his head, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and held it against his uncle's wound. "Save your strength, you'll be all right if you do." Alex knocked aside his hand, grabbed Harry behind the neck and brought his ear close to his lips.

"Listen…not much time…just listen…" Harry stopped what he was doing and leaned closer. Alex coughed, and Harry saw pink froth bubble on his lips. Alex began speaking, slowly, using all of his strength. "You…I love…like a son…Linda…tell her…I'm sorry…didn't tell her…sooner I…" Alex gave a racking cough, almost drowned out by the sounds of the fighting. Harry didn't flinch as blood and mucus got on him.

Alex resumed, "I…love her…sorry…won't be there…for her…and…our son…" His other hand grabbed Harry's hand, and he whispered, "When he's born…you hold him high and tell him…about me…." Alex coughed and continued, "Promise me…look after….him and Linda…" Harry shook his head, "I will, but it isn't necessary as you…" Alex interrupted him, "Good…lad…I'll let…your mom and Dad…and Gerry…grandmother and grandfather…know…next I see them…" Alex then coughed and spat more blood. His one eye looked at Harry, darted to his right, over Harry's back where the fighting continued. "Live….life….Harry…LIVE!" He croaked, and then surprised Harry by pushing him towards the other pillar. Harry landed on his ass and watched as his uncle, arms held high….

Then a cold, reptilian voice yelling the killing curse, the curse flying to where Harry had once crouched, hitting Alex in the chest. His uncle took the curse the curse to the chest, like before, and he turned to Harry. Alex's face had the grin he had worn the day he had picked Harry up for the summer. He landed on his back, his face to Harry, the life gone from his face.

Harry heard a scream, far-off in the distance, a voice yelling No…

When it stopped, he realized it had been himself.

* * *

Time seemed to have lost meaning for Harry. Harry looked at his uncle for a moment, then let his eyes go to the duel. Voldemort got cocooned by Dumbledore in the waters from the fountain, and when Dumbledore released his spell he was nowhere in sight. Harry got up and staggered towards the Headmaster, the energy in him gone, tired and exhausted and drained…

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE, HARRY!" Dumbledore cried out. There was a quality in it Harry had never heard before: fear. Harry stopped, but then pain he had never felt before burst through his scar, pain so fierce his world began to spin. Harry cried, clutching at his head. Blood went through his fingers as his scar opened and bled. A voice, something dark and animal, went through his head, mocking the Headmaster that if death wasn't the worst, then to kill him, to get it over with. Harry mentally begged for it, at least then he could join his parents, Alex and Sirius….

As quick as the pain arrived, it left. Harry's head stopped throbbing, his world no longer spinning. Above him was the worried, bearded face of Albus Dumbledore. Harry blinked, and saw that he was laying on the wooden floor. Slowly, he rose to his feet.

Around him he could see the fireplaces coming to life, wizards and witches coming through. Harry could hear them talking. A man in a night gown and cap walked towards them. Harry recognized him as the Minister, Cornelius Fudge. The Headmaster walked towards him, and he could see his face go pale, as everyone was telling him about seeing Voldemort. Harry watched the Headmaster confer with the Minister; hearing, but not registering anything he heard. Snatches of the conversation, of Death Eaters being held in the Department of Mysteries, of the Headmaster being reinstated, of further discussions after Harry was at school, rang through Harry's clouded mind.

The Headmaster came over to Harry, holding up the wizard's head. Dumbledore waved his wand over it, glowed briefly for a second. The Minister complained, and the two conferred some more. Harry shook his head, and saw the Headmaster before him. Dumbledore held it before him, and explained. "Take the portkey, and wait for me in my office."

Harry reached for it, but stopped as he overheard a witch wearing an Auror's badge talking to the Minister, "Sir, what do you want us to do with the body?" Harry looked over at Fudge, who had his back to him, facing Alex's body. "Send him to the morgue at Saint Mungo's. Better yet…" He stopped, for Harry roughly shouldered past him, pushing aside the wizards and witches around his uncles body.

Without a word, he knelt down, and opened his uncle's shirt. Inside he removed the two red ID tags, leaving the green. Pocketing the other two tags, he straightened back up, he took off his belt kit, and shoulder holster, tossing them with his pistol on the ground. Harry then shrugged out of his black robe, draping it over his uncle. Kneeling down again, he arranged it so the red and gold crest of Gryffindor, bloody and grimy though it was, was visible. Putting his shoulder holster and pistol back on before picking up his belt kit, and turning towards the Headmaster. Before he touched it, he spoke to no one in particular, but loud enough that Fudge and all the others could hear him.

"Alexander Slim Evans, Church of England, 6966333. An officer, an Auror, a wizard," He paused, then continued, "my family."


	41. Chapter XXXXI: Final Requests

**Disclaimer**: See Chapter I, but to reiterate, I'm not getting a penny out of this, just an intellectual exercise in what could have been.

I know it's been a while since my last update, but after putting off summer training until next year as well as better turnout grade wise, I can finally finish this rather epic tome and get to work on the sequel. Yes, there will be a sequel as I've thought this thing out for a long, and there is still so much to write. Nonetheless, my principles of quality, no matter the time needed to produce it, won't be compromised. There may be delays, hell, there probably will be long delays considering what I'm doing in college, and what I want to do afterwards, but excluding death I will always be able to update in some shape or form.

To answer one reviewer's question (that this lazy bitch hurry up and update, with the only acceptable being war) well, I haven't gone to war…yet. If you want to know what I've been doing, let me just say that I'm pretty committed to that after college, and you had better get used to these delays. Uncle Sam, even at my stage of the game, is a pretty demanding boss.

However, it can tie into fan-fic, believe it or not. While I will be keeping my politics out of my work, there is one trend amongst H/G fics that must be refuted, as while the image of a simpering, dutiful Ginny is laughable, the idea of her shaking Harry out of his assorted 'mental baggage', and especially slapping Harry, pretty much any tough love…Well, let's just say there is a reason why the US Army's divorce rate is rising quick, and why any Army wife will tell you the real test of a marriage is not him going to war, it's him coming back. Regardless, that's for the next work.

Thanks to all who've read, as when I started out I wondered just how I could botch something up. Regardless, here is the last two chapters, and a preview.

**Chapter XXXXI: Final Requests**

Harry poured the bourbon in the tumbler slowly. Johnny Cash was singing _Walk the Line_ in the background from Doc's CD player. A heavy downpour was happening outside, not much in the way of thunder, but the noise still reached through the walls. Like the day he ridden the train for his fifth year. It was the night before the long train ride for the summer. Almost two weeks had passed since…

Picking up the tumbler, he slugged the inch of the whiskey back and poured himself another. For someone of his age, height and weight, Harry had discovered, to his amusement, he could drink…A lot. Pulling out a Winston from a pack of cigarettes he had found cached with Doc's kit, Harry flipped open his Zippo, and lit it. Breathing in the nicotine, Harry tried to organize his thoughts.

Sitting at a table in the Gryffindor Common room, his tied loosened and wizard cap beside him, Harry had Doc's footlocker open on the ground next to him. In front of him were some of Doc's more questionable kit, and a piece of parchment on which Harry was trying to write a letter to Doc's parents. For the past hour, he had been racking his brains, trying to figure out how he was going to tell the parents of one his best friends that their son was being returned to them in a metal box. The two had made a promise during a field exercise that if the one of them ever got killed, then the other would pack the other's kit for him, write a letter to the parents…

The kit included a pile of dirty magazines (Hustlers and the like), a pack of Trojan condoms, the quart bottle of Jack Daniels, three packs of Winston cigarettes, two cans of Copenhagen Long Cut, and a small book of photographs. Amongst the photographs had been one taken from a Korean red-light district with a bunch of women smiling and waving from behind the plate glass windows of a brothel, also known as a turkey farm or glass-house in Doc's words. Next to it had been one taken on a Friday night, Doc in US Army physical training uniform (grey t-shirt with ARMY emblazoned in black bloc letters with gray shorts) with Doc and Nev and Ron likewise casually attired drinking beer. Harry remembered that Doc had stood up, beer in hand, showed them picture of the women and declared, "I'm a soldier's brat, so when I go home I'll change my luck with women the way it's been done since the beginning of time…Or at least of hookers and soldiers." They had all laughed, Doc more so as Harry casually remarked he might find it a good idea to invest in tetracycline.

Doc wasn't dead, but the surgery he was going through was high-risk. This time the odds were really stacked against him on this one...

Harry knew from playing poker with the man that Doc, in Doc's own words, "Dug the long odds." Nor could he blame him, for while the best efforts of Madam Pomfrey had been enough to stabilize him, fix him up to the point he could talk and eat liquids, there had been damage to him that was almost irreparable. A sliver of stone from the Ministry's floor had sliced through his prostate like a hot knife through butter, while another had caused enough damage to his innards that he wouldn't be able to drink, nor smoke, or eat solids for the rest of his life. Worse, there had been damage caused by the spell's magical energy, so that much of the injuries had fucked up Doc couldn't really be cured. Much in the same way Moody was minus an eye, leg, and nose.

Doc had been told that he would be spending the rest of his life eating liquids, in a wheelchair, and unable to get an erection. He had looked the Healer from St. Mungo's, who had been helping Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary deal with the casualties from the Ministry, right in the eye and asked if there were any procedures, experimental or high-risk or whatever that would either kill him or give him his life back. The Healer had looked him right in the eye, told him that there was a procedure they could use drawing upon his magical energy, one that would be guaranteed to take away at least ten years from his life. Indeed, the procedure was so high-risk that the odds were stacked against him coming out of it alive. Doc hadn't even blinked, demanding that they start the procedure then and there. Since Doc had had a series of papers drawn up before he had gone to England about who would be in charge of medical decisions (in his case, it would be in the hands of the Headmaster), they had been able to get a stretcher and get him on the floo to St.Mungo's. Doc had yelled to Harry to remember his promise, and that he would see them on the train ride to London. That had been early that morning, after they had placed quite a few cheering and pain-killing charms on him as they prepared to move him…Though it hadn't been enough for Doc had also asked that Harry toss him a couple of knuts.

It was a Cajun custom for the dead to have a coin over each eye, so that boatman of the River Styx would ferry him to the other side…

Harry flicked the ash from his cigarette into a nearby inkwell, watching the gray mix in with the black. The smoke swirled in front of him, and Harry knew that if someone saw him, they would think he was deep in thought, totally concentrated on the subject at hand. It was only partially true, as while he was deep in thought, it had nothing to do with the topic of writing to Doc's parents. Harry didn't think that anything he would say could mean anything to a family that had lost, about to lose, whatever, their son, a good man who hadn't deserved to get his innards twisted inside out and splattered across a cold stone floor…

Instead his thoughts went to the days before. Igachev, McNair, Rodolphus and RabastanLestrange, and Mulciber were dead. With the exception of Wormtail, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Voldemort himself, the entire upper level chain of command within the Death Eaters was either killed or captured. The price for Harry and the Order had been around a dozen wounded, with Doc the worst hit….The two dead weren't officially acknowledged, as Alex and Black were 'under investigation'. Fudge's people had immediately bagged Alex's body, and from what Moody had told him, it was in a deep freeze within a vault of secret material in the Ministry.

Harry sipped his liquor, and drew a breath on his cigarette. Exhaling, his thoughts went from the Ministry to the debriefing, if you could call it that, in Dumbledore's office. He had arrived ahead of the Headmaster, and everything had hit him then and there. Images of Sirius and Alex, one falling through the veil, the other with his one good eye, bloodshot and staring back at him. Dumbledore had arrived, and things had seemed all right, telling him that they had found Doc, and everyone was being cared for. Then said he wanted to talk about how Harry felt, that he understood, and everything went downhill. Dumbledore ignored Harry's protests, either not noticing or not caring how tenuous Harry's hold on his temper was. Finally he had snapped. Harry had yelled, cursed and sworn, called Dumbledore a son-of-a bitch motherfucker who didn't have the slightest fucking idea how he felt. The rage he had thrown, throwing anything he could get his hands and yelling and cursing, had lasted until he had punched in…something.

Whatever it was had been made of glass, and the noise of it shattering, more so then the slivers of glass knifing the flesh of his knuckles had calmed him down. Dumbledore had wanted to talk about Harry's feelings, but Harry didn't want any of it. He had tried to storm off, but ultimately wound up having to sit down, to listen since the Headmaster wouldn't let him leave without telling him of things he should know of. Dumbledore told him that Kreacher had been a security risk, one despite Kreacher's house-elf oath to keep the secrets of his master. While he had kept secret the business of the Order, he had turned over intelligence about Sirius the man, specifically who cared for, was close to. Kreacher had told this to Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, and from there it had been used against the Order and against Harry.

There was only one man responsible for the deaths of Alex and that had been himself, Dumbledore admitted, though he had remarked Sirius hadn't helped matters by treating Kreacher the way he had. Harry had taken this by screaming at the Headmaster, and flinging a small table into a wall, turning it into kindling. Dumbledore hadn't even blinked, waited for Harry to breathe, and started to explain.

Over the year, ever since the Tri-wizard tournament, everything that had happened occurred as part of a plan that Dumbledore had hatched; one that one that had its causes all the way to the first war with Voldemort. Harry's scar, as it had been deduced from the events of his fourth year and from the incidents in his first year, showed that Harry had some sort of mental connection between himself and Voldemort. The Headmaster had embarked on a two-part plan: first, bring Alex out of self-imposed exile in Belize to train Harry in the skills to protect himself, and to use Harry as a conduit of disinformation back to Voldemort if his fears were true.

Angrily, Harry had asked how much had been a lie and the Headmaster had been silent before continuing. Dumbledore had avoided telling lies, keeping instead much information away from Harry and even his uncle that he shouldn't have or giving bits and pieces when the information in its entirety was called for. Information such as the fact that the vampire attacks had been probes, raids designed to test the security of Hogwarts, as well just how much information they were receiving from the other side. Harry guessed that while the briefings he had been part of had been a deception, they really had sources within the ranks of the Death Eaters and their allies. Perhaps it was Snape, perhaps it wasn't, and all that mattered was that he didn't know.

The first probe, it was explained by Dumbledore, had been one such attempt. Between it and the second attack had been the whole Christmas fiasco. _That_ had been a very close call for the Order, as Dumbledore had seen how pervasive Voldemort's activity in Harry's mind had been, and how much of a security risk Harry posed without realizing it. On a totally separate issue, Harry's trial the previous December had led to the loss of a source that had been strategically placed, one close to Malfoy for, as the Headmaster explained, he was a man who tended to be a braggart. Adding fuel to a very hot fire had been the intimacy between Harry and Alice, for it had led to Malfoy using her torture and death in an attempt to either get Harry thrown out of the school, or out of his position, for Dumbledore had had rumors and misinformation spread through potentially compromised channels that overestimated Harry's place in the scheme of things.

Then there had been the second attack, the one in which Harry had been captured. It had been conducted as a raid to probe the school's defenses as well as generally discredit the Headmaster. The fact Harry had been captured had been unexpected, and intelligence had shown that Voldemort had only learned of his capture just as he was escaping, and then through Lucius Malfoy. Apparently, in that incident Harry had been in the middle of an antagonism going back to the first war between Alex and Mueller. Mueller apparently thought he could play both sides against the middle and come out on top. What he hadn't taken into effect was that Alex would harness the resources of the Death Eaters by kidnapping Malfoy's son Draco and using him to get Malfoy the elder to lead him to Harry.

This had surprised Harry, as Alex had always appeared to him to be ready and willing to use any method, regardless of the nature, to accomplish the mission. Surely Mueller must have realized this as well? Dumbledore had only shaken his head, as the Alex from the first war, the one that had matched wits with Mueller, was a different man then who had sacrificed himself at the Ministry. That had come about during the Tribunals immediately following the war, when Alex had been ridiculed for the idea of a Fifth Man within the Ministry, of his accusing Cornelius Fudge, the hero of the hour…and how evidence from overseas showed that Mueller had turned the woman he loved into a traitor. Dumbledore told the story through his Pensieve, and Harry could still see a young Alex, his knuckles white as they gripped the desk in front of the tribunal. Crouch and Fudge showing him testimony from captured vampires, statements of Sirius Black's mayhem in London. The final scene had been the worst: Alex standing up, calm and collected as he threw his Auror's badge at the elder Crouch, telling them that their arrogance was going to one day come back to haunt them.

Dumbledore continued, explaining that Voldemort's real objective, evidenced from his pet snake's attack on Sturgis, of an earlier case where a man named Boderick Bode had been under the Imperius curse in the Department of Mysteries. Harry interrupted, telling him he hadn't heard of it, and Dumbledore told him it had been hushed up by the Ministry, and kept quiet of within the Order. Voldemort's real plans had been cautious, careful; his use of the vampires was a mere ruse to get the Ministry and Order to look away from the real target. That target had been the room in which Harry had been led to for there was a prophecy there concerning Voldemort going back to the time Harry was born. Mueller had been recruited sometime after the Triwizard Tournament to assist in the ventures. The blood feud between him and Alex had been merely fuel to the whole fire.

Harry had listened as Dumbledore told how in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, even at that early of a date he had known that Voldemort could return, and that Voldemort at his full power would be greater then anything he could muster. So Dumbledore had wrapped him in old magic based on the blood of his mother, and the magic that came from her love and the sacrifice she had made that kept him safe. Harry hadn't known that in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat Dumbledore had been concerned about Harry's safety, as while Voldemort may have been defeated his followers hadn't, going underground or striking out in the chaos after it. With Alex as much of a target as Harry himself, he had had no choice but to send Harry to live with the relatives he could only hope would love him, as their blood was the only real protection they could offer. Harry snorted at that, but let the Headmaster explain that the magic of his aunt's blood provided him the protection that may kept him alive for the past fifteen years.

This was crucial, for it evolved around the prophecy in the Ministry, a prophecy Dumbledore had been told in the Hog's Head in 1979 by Sybill Trewlaney. It stated that the Dark Lord was going to be defeated by an opponent born on July 31st, to parents who had thrice defied him, that the Dark Lord would mark him as his equal, and that in order for the other to live the other must die.

Harry had felt as though he had socked in the stomach when he heard that, and even more so when the Headmaster told him that it could have been another: Nev. The change had occurred after the defeat, when there had been no question whatsoever of whom the person in question had been. Harry had weakly tried to point out that maybe the prophecy wasn't of him, but Dumbledore told him that there was no question of he being the one, as Voldemort had marked him as his equal. It wasn't the pureblood, but the half-blood like Voldemort himself. When Harry pointed out that he should have waited until either was older before doing that, the Headmaster concurred, but noted that Voldemort had found out only the first part of it through an informant. From there he had discovered of his parents going into hiding, and had initiated the events that had lead to his first defeat.

The Headmaster continued, telling him that Voldemort had miscalculated, that he didn't know of the power Harry had within. Harry, the images of his uncle and godfather dying flashing before his eyes, answered that he was nothing, as what he knew he could was nothing compared to the power that had been demonstrated before him. Dumbledore had only shaken his head, said that within a room of the Ministry there was a power that was greater then anything, a power that took Harry to go and try to save Sirius. That power, a power that resided in his heart, had been what saved him even though his mind was open for Voldemort, a power that had been given to him through the sacrifice his mother had made.

Dumbledore told of how he had, after the Triwizard Tournament, seen the evidence before him, and understood he would have to take certain measures. Bringing his uncle out of the self-imposed exile had been to try and assuage the guilt he felt for putting Harry in the care of the Dursleys over the years. The Headmaster had felt a trained, albeit retired Auror coupled with the protection offered by his aunt's blood would be enough protection for the summer. While he hadn't been happy over the events that had occurred in Wales, he was nonetheless gladdened to see that Harry had been happier, more happier at school too then he thought despite not playing Quidditch or having the responsibility of being a Prefect, an honor he felt Harry had deserved but was sorry to have denied it to him…

Harry breathed in the fumes, his mind back to the present. It didn't bother him that he would have to kill Voldemort, as secretly, in that little box every human has in the back of their mind where they hide their deepest and darkest secrets, he had felt that that was going to be the case. Before he used to think it was merely personal, now though…

Slugging back the bourbon, Harry poured himself another and mashed out his cigarette on the much-abused table. Lighting another, he thought about how he had walked out of the office, gone straight to his room where he stripped off his school uniform. Leaving his kit laying in front of his bed, he had gone straight to the shower, following which he had thrown on a pair of shorts and slept…At least he tried to, for as soon as he shut his eyes the dreams, the dreams which had stopped over the summer had started anew. This time they were worse, as Harry had seen his uncle and his godfather die before him, and of what was left of Doc. Images of Ron, Neville, and others dieing deaths bloody and screaming….Harry would find himself waking up alone in the dorm, drenched with sweat and his hands bunched up fists of sheets…

The couple weeks after the incident in the Ministry passed in a blur. Harry remembered visiting the infirmirary, his friends taking up the beds within. Another memory swam into focus, of visiting Linda at her home with Alastor Moody giving her the news that Alex wouldn't be coming back. Harry recalled that she didn't scream or faint, but that she stood there, swollen belly with tears streaming from her eyes, bravely trying to take things as they came stoically. From the summer, he remembered that she had lost her mother, father, and a brother in the first war. Now she lost a lover and the father of the child, their child. And all Harry could do was stand, his mind still in shock of what happened as Moody tried to comfort Linda, telling her that Alex had gone quick and they would get the body back as soon as they could….

Cash segued into _The End_ by The Doors, and Harry still remembered. He remembered three days after the Ministry, the day after visiting Linda, of sitting with his friends in the infirmirary. Doc was still out of it, as Madam Pomfrey had called in help from St.Mungo's to help care for him as she was having to cast constant charm upon charm to keep him alive. Harry remembered reading of the first news release, of how his friends had gone silent when Hermione mentioned Sirius and Alex. Another memory was of speaking with Hagrid, the giant, a good friend, the man who had brought him back to the wizard world years before, telling him that his uncle and godfather went out the way they would have wanted. Then him trying to talk to Sir Nick, hoping to maybe talk to his family were they ghosts, then having that hope dash. Another memory, of Ginny cornering him about four days ago in the Astronomy Tower, where he had gone for a quiet moment and then...

Now that caused Harry to gulp down the remaining bourbon, and gulp down another before found himself staring into the bottom of his tumbler. A vague part of him realized that he had just consumed about half a quart of Jack Daniel's, and that maybe he should stop. The rest of him stopped as he remembered the row he had had with Ginny. What made it bad was that he hadn't said anything that time, only moved away from her…

She had come looking for him, thinking that he had been avoiding her (which he had). Harry knew that _she_ knew that he was having the nightmares again, that he was in pain, but instead of listening, to talking, to burying his face in her hair and letting his emotions go through, he hadn't said a word to her. She had grabbed him, ranted and raved and called him an idiot that forgot that she had been there too, that she had been through just as much as he was. Harry had shook loose, and left her fuming, speechless, and glaring daggers at him. From then he had thrown himself into avoiding her, and anybody else. The time he used to find some dark corner of the castle, his father's invisibility cloak draped over him, and lost himself in the memories, and what he was going to have to do…

Harry swirled the drops of alcohol in the bottom of his tumbler. No, it wasn't the prospect of killing someone that bothered him, as he had done it since he was eleven. The lies, half-truths, and not having been told that he was the weapon in a war that had only been curtailed back when he was a toddler angered and left him feeling betrayed, but he supposed he could understand it and live with it. What bothered him, what worried him, was that he was in love, he loved Ginny more then any words he could use to describe it. Under normal circumstances it may have been, would have been, the happiest the thing in the world for him. Before, when he supposed it was just a personal grudge between him and Voldemort he had been worried, but felt that with precautions and the work he was doing the bastard could be held at bay. Now, it was set in stone that the war was going to come down to him in one corner and Voldemort in the other. The problem with that analogy was that a lot of what he cared for, and in Ginny's case, loved more then his own life, was between them. And Voldemort would be more then willing to destroy it all just to get at him.

During his captivity he had been beaten, burned, electrocuted, cursed with the Cruciatus, sliced and diced and scratched and screamed till he had no voice left. Yet, in his guts he had known that the pain he had suffered would be nothing compared to the pain of losing someone like Ginny. Or, even worse, the pain caused to them if, rather _when_ he got killed. For all he knew, his and Voldemort's destruction could be one and the same. Even worse, say he did kill Voldemort? That still left who knew how many others of his ilk hiding in the shadows. Harry knew that men like Malfoy's father had friends, others that would go to any length to bring retribution to him. Ginny may have been a target before, a target when the war was in the shadows, but now…The only reason Voldemort hadn't used the knowledge about the relationship before had been because he was focused on the prophecy, and without showing his malevolent hand so soon.

Harry remembered all too well the expression on the face of Linda. No, what scared and shook him to his very core wasn't his own mortality, or what could happen to the wizard world of England should he die for he had no doubt that even if he died, there were others like him, better then him he thought, to keep up the fire. What scared, shook him to his very core was the prospect of hurting Ginny like that…

Any further thoughts on that particular train momentarily as the fireplace flared, and a goblin wearing the blue messenger uniform of Gringotts stepped forward. In his hands was a small wooden parcel, and holding it before him he approached Harry. "Mister Harry Potter?" The goblin asked. Harry dropped his cigarette in the inkwell and nodded. The goblin set the package on a table and pulled a receipt from within his coat. Harry stared at it for a moment before he took his quill, dipped it into the greasy black ink, and scrawled something (it may have been his signature, but considering how loaded he was there was no telling) on it. The goblin bowed, and threw some Floo power in the fireplace from his pocket.

Harry turned his attention to the parcel, not paying attention as the goblin left. Squinting, Harry saw that it wasn't wood, but cardboard, tied with string. Someone had scrawled his name with black ink on the side of it. Intrigued, Harry ripped open the package and looked in. Inside appeared to be a scroll of parchment, sealed with wax, and a smaller box made of black, varnished wood. Harry picked both up and set them on the table. Part of his mind told him not to touch them, as they could be portkeys, but then he remembered from one of the books that he had read that after the first war Gringotts had put in place measures to prevent things like that from happening.

Now the choice boiled down to which one. Looking at the box and the scroll, Harry decided to go for the box. Prying it open revealed a small mirror. Harry pulled it out, examined it. Nothing but a cheap piece of shiny plastic one found in cammy kits as mirrors. Harry set it down on the table as he cracked open the scroll and looked. The only writing was a small drawing of a square; nothing else.

Despite the darkening alcoholic haze clouding his mind, Harry noted that the square and the small mirror were congruent. Laying the scroll out on the table, Harry picked up the mirror and set it within the square. Harry then leaped back as a beam of light shot out from. Knocking over his chair, Harry looked up and saw a ghost.

Alex.

Harry's uncle was dressed in his professor's uniform, tie on, magical eye in place. The image was grey, like a ghost, but any thoughts on the subject were quickly smashed as Alex spoke.

"I'm not a ghost, Harry, merely a charm designed to record an image from a mirror. Handy when one wants to record a final word. So keeping to tradition…" The image paused, and then continued.

"If you are watching this, Harry, then both myself and Sirius Black are dead. Should that be the case, then more then likely it has been before either of us has had the chance to tell you of certain…observations over the years. Since you've known Sirius slightly better then I, we, felt it best to explain things that you probably don't know, to fill in some pieces of the puzzle that, if it hasn't already been exposed to you, will occur in due course with the way the war has been proceeding."

The image began pacing slightly as it spoke.

"That first time I got on the train to Hogwarts, I made two friends who became close to me, much in the way Hermione and Ron are to you. They were Liz, and Linda. Liz and I went to Gryffindor, while Linda went to Hufflepuff. Regardless, we became close friends throughout our time at the school. I told you once that I loved Liz, but the truth of the matter was that I loved both of them dearly. I truly loved both of these women, yet I couldn't do anything about it. Were it not for the war, then that probably would have remained the same, however, fate intervened when the Ministry badly needed Aurors and Healers. So Liz and I went on a path to be Aurors, and Linda to the Healers. You must realize that at that time things were bad…As bad as they had been perhaps when my own parents were my age."

Alex stopped, and looked away for moment, breathed and looked at him. Harry could see that he was tired, the thousand-yard stare that he had read about present. "Every day, there was an incident, every day another casualty. You probably don't know, but Ginny had two uncles, twins Gideon and Fabian. My first assignment, young and brash and full of piss, was to go collect their bodies. I had met them, and they had trained me at Hogwarts, and…I already told you once of collecting Nicky and my mates in a rubber bag several years later. Same thing, same thing…" His voice dropped as he spoke, so that he drifted off into a whisper. A moment of silence, and then he continued. "We knew that there was a leak, that there were people under the Imperius in the Ministry. Even more insidious then those were the genuine traitors, the zealots who believed in the sanctity of wizard blood. Despite the best efforts of the Auror's Divisions, the Ministry was so riddled with leaks that many allied nations wouldn't have anything to do with us. That was why the Order was formed, as a cell of people both inside and outside of the Ministry who we _knew_ weren't turned. Working hand-in glove with those elements of the Ministry that were considered reliable, we were hitting the dark bastard's power base, killing them as they killed us."

"I was a lot like you then Harry. Torture, deception, lying, cheating, extorting, the whole bag of tricks that I showed you disgusted me. That time Moody told you about Pines, a man whom I used the Cruciatus on, that was an exception, the point I guess where I started to become what I became when I found out an orphanage of squibs was going to be torched by the Lestranges. Only their disgusting minion Edmund Pines knew, and time was short." The apparition shrugged, "It took me a few tries, but he talked, and from then on I did anything and everything, more so as Liz's family was killed, and then you and Lilly and James went into hiding. At that stage of the game all I had left in terms of real family was Lilly, James, Liz and Linda, and you. I fought harder, got harder much the same way Moody was like. That any and all means were a necessary evil, for the ones we fought were human in name only. Then came Halloween, and everything changed..."

The ghostly image of Harry's uncle closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, "Everyone believed it was a victory, the light at the end of a decade of darkness. At least that was what most believed. For those in the Order, those who had been on the front lines, we knew better. Most of us knew that even with the war over there was still sizeable fifth column elements within the Ministry that ensured that some other power-hungry bastard would start the whole drama all over again. It was because of them that the Headmaster sent you to that purgatory in Sussex. Me and Liz, we thought there was more to it then fifth columnists, that there were greater machinations behind the scenes, and so we stayed on the hunt. Liz felt there were too many inconsistencies, that Sirius would never betray Lilly and James. Me, I didn't really know what to believe, and to be totally truthful all I wanted to do was break a case so that it would be possible for me to perhaps take custody of you, and maybe give you a better home with Liz then you were going to have with my sister." Alex made 'sister' sound like an insult.

"From what we pieced together, one of the Dark Lord's sympathizers had overheard part of a prophecy that somehow related to you in the Hog's Head Inn. Liz and I never learned what it was over particularly, but the Headmaster told us of it being overheard, and being of importance to the whole cause. Regardless, the bastard reported what he had heard to his master, who in turn sent Mueller to go forth and investigate while he continued to undermine the Ministry and the stability of the wizard world within Britain. Mueller soon learned of you, and how shortly after the prophecy you had been born. He doubtless also would have learned how you and your family were constantly on the move, to ensure your security. Mueller had then gone ahead and recruited his source within the Order. This we knew because in the months prior to your mother and father going into hiding there had been several attacks and ambushes, close calls that would only have been possible if they had had someone on the inside. My hunch had been that it was the Fifth Man, or someone close to him as other Ministry operations fell through the cracks as well during the same time."

"Nonetheless, Liz and I focused on that as from there Mueller had led the Dark Lord to your parents, and to your parents to his, at the time believed, destruction. We didn't even know about Mueller until one of the lower-level suspects under interrogation mentioned his name, and Liz was able to track him through several contacts Fletcher had in the underworld. She then took off for an initial meet while I continued with interrogating the assorted low and mid grade scum that was coming out of their holes. What happened after I already told you before: we thought Mueller was going to defect, only he didn't, arranging instead for those scum to torture and kill Liz and the Longbottoms. What I didn't tell you was that afterwards, during the autopsy, I discovered the body on the slab had been unknown woman who had been made to look like Liz, and that Liz had been plotting things out from the beginning."

Alex's eyes were sad now, "She hated the Dark Lord's followers for what they had done to her family, and she hated our side for doing nothing about it. Me? I don't know then, or now, what she thought of me. I thought at one time she loved me as much as I did her…Now?" The image shrugged before continuing, " All I suppose I can say is that Liz had been drawn to the prospect of continuing this life, as nearly all she had once held dear had been lost or changed. Regardless, the only defection to take place had been hers, with what happened to the Longbottoms merely the kind of smoke-screen to take people's attention away from her. The two of them had guessed that the witch hunts then going on would be thrown into all sorts of chaos once it came to light Crouch's little boy was involved. All I can say is they were right as when I presented the information I had collected about the whole sordid mess, they presented a report Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt had prepared. Apparently, keeping me in the dark, they had, under orders from Dumbledore, kept a close watch on Liz after the death of her parents, and the inaction on our part. Liz had been investigated the whole time, and her death faked while the Death Eater remnants attacked poor Frank and his wife."

Alex's eyes were weary now, "The whole business disgusted me. Your parents were dead and you sent to those bastards of your aunt and her husband, the possibility of one of my best friends being held illegally in Azkabahn, everything that I had fought for was gone or scarred. I didn't think the good guys were white knights with shiny horses on white horses, but one slowly becomes disgusted and disillusioned with the whole world after beating and torturing a man till he screamed and screamed without a voice, then threatened to kill his family. Of having to threaten a man's family in order to get him to talk because that man had the knowledge of an attack that would kill ten or twenty or a hundred others; then there was Fudge and Crouch getting ready to throw me out on my ass, much the same way they did to Alistair and many other good men and women. Me? I saw what they were going to do, and resigned to deny them that little pleasure."

"The rest of my story you know until I got out of the Army. I had gone to Belize, working for Struan's Tobacco on a character reference I had from a duty station in Hong Kong. There I worked smuggling cigars when two things happened. First, I ran into Liz when I returned to England when the MOD wanted to make sure I got a prosthetic eye as part of my pension. We hadn't seen each other since before Lilly and James got killed, and then one day in '93 I took a walk near the Leaky Cauldron on a hunch and well…." His image shrugged before continuing, "She'd worked for several years as a low-level healer in St. Mungo's before the Ministry culled her in a cost-cutting measure, and then had worked a series of odd-jobs as a sales clerk in various apothecaries and muggle pharmacies in London. We talked, and when I found out how she was doing I asked if she wanted to join me as my housekeeper in Belize. I told her of what happened, and it was the fact that I suppose she saw how low I had sunk in the years since we had last seen each other. My lover dead, most of my family dead, everything that I had fought and bled and did such things that I had done worth not a damn…I suppose she pitied me, but she wasn't doing much in England, and so she came with me. Our friendship followed again, and then…" The image shrugged, "One thing led to another, that another following right after we went back to England after Sirius was recalled, followed by ourselves shortly thereafter. Went back, and while you were enjoying yourself at Meg's…" Another shrug, and the image grinned, "You've enjoyed the warmth and love of your own woman, Harry. You know how it feels. What you don't know, what I hope you never will know, is what it is to have it taken away from you, and then one day discovering it anew… Discovering one cold December day that you don't have to be so cold and alone anymore, returning home to find your wife pregnant with your son…" Alex trailed off, and then his voice spoke again.

"Harry, I'm recording all of this as I set off to bring you back to your special someone, someone who reminds me so much of the past. I know the mathematics, that this is the kind of operation which few if any return back from. I know what I have before me, but I also know that you haven't had any of that for as long as I have. A life for a life, Harry, no regrets from me; so when you watch this Harry, as I've no doubt you will be, I want you to make a promise, to me, your mother, your father and Godfather, to all of us that have brought you to this point, that you won't squander the gift of life you have before you."

"Live, Harry, live. Fight not for the dead. Fight for those who still live, for those who are besides you now, so that you can carve yourself a bit of happiness out of this sordid mess. I had the same opportunity once, and squandered it. It was only through sheer luck that I got the chance to get it back. Now, I'm willing to trade it again, this time so that you can get the same chance as I had once. So live, Harry, you and the woman you love. And…" Alex paused, and Harry could see his glitter with what had to be tears.

"When Linda and I, our, son is born, hold him in your arms, and raise him high. I ask a last request of you to tell him…tell him about me the way I told you about your father, Harry."

Alex's face, tears sliding down his face, grinned suddenly. Harry knew the grin anywhere, as it was the same one he had seen so many times before. "I'll see you when your time comes, and tell your parents that they created a right proper killer, and one hell of a man."

Harry blinked, and blinked again. The image of his uncle faded, the only sound in the common room the sound of the rain hitting the stones of the castle, and the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

It wasn't until Harry felt the heat from his cigarette start to warm his fingers did he move, quickly mashing out the burning into the horrendously scarred tabletop. Everything seemed to be muscle working from then on. Harry could no longer feel, the only sound in his head the voice of his uncle telling him of how it had come down between Harry, and Alex risking a suicide mission, of his uncle gambling with his life when he had a woman to marry, and a child on the way.

To say that it shook Harry to the core would be an understatement. Harry's mind was almost a blank slate, as while it could see and feel and taste, nothing mattered. A hand, Harry wasn't sure if it was his own, took the parchment and glass and set it aside as the other picked up a long, tan envelope. It was in there Harry pushed the photos, the tobacco and alcohol he left on the table. Setting down the envelope back on the table, Harry watched his hands move to the stationary upon which he had been trying to write a letter to Doc's folks, and set it on top of the envelope.

He couldn't take it anymore, the inside of the castle stifled him like a straight-jacket, the air dusty, and everywhere a memory of friends both living and dead. Across from him would have been Ron and Hermione during any one of their countless study sessions, the sofa nearest the fireplace was where Doc and Alex had sat as they relaxed after a particularly hard weekend in the field with a case of Butterbeers.

Getting up, Harry felt his body move towards the door. Despite four drinks, Harry was only feeling slightly sluggish (not bad for someone who was only 66 inches tall and weighed a hundred forty pounds on a good day) as he moved everything aside and stood. Walking over to the door, Harry felt things were as though he were in a dream, a surreal quality to everything. Opening it, he walked out, going through the deserted hallways. The feast must have been still going on, as he ran into no one as Harry plodded through the school, coming out of the school into the pouring rain.

Harry could feel rivers of water down his back, rain soaking into his school robes. Despite the summer, it was still cold, but instead of shivering Harry welcomed it. Walking down the steps, Harry thought he heard someone calling for him but he still continued. Now it was memory as he made his way down the lake, and into the cold water. There were no waves despite the rain, as there wasn't a wind. Harry could feel the cold water soak through his shoes, then his trousers. Soon it was at his up to his knees before he stopped and dropped to his knees. Vaguely he felt water splash on his face. In his mind eye everything that had happened hit him.

The race to the Ministry, the fight in the Forbidden Forest, the running gun battle through the halls of the Ministry, watching Sirius fall through the archway, chasing after Bellatrix, Alex getting killed, learning that he hadn't been told that he had a purpose in life he had only thought of as a fantasy to be kept in the back of his mind. Images went through his mind, images like watching Linda face had a river of tears as she learned that Alex wasn't coming back, Ginny scowling, and yelling, only he couldn't hear the words…

"Harry…" Hearing his name called, Harry slowly turned his head and looked up. It was Ginny, her face no longer angry, instead full of concern and love. She moved next to him, said something, only Harry didn't hear it. He reached out, brought her close to him, and wept, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ginny held him, the rain falling on and around them as though the heavens themselves wept.


	42. Chapter XXXXII: Light Before Dark

Disclaimer: Same as always, not making anything off of this so give me a break. Oh, and copyright for _When you say nothing at all_ is Allison Krause in this case.

**Chapter XXXXII: Light before the Dark**

A shout, more shouts, and then a series of thuds.

Harry heard the commotion outside, and quickly grabbed his wand. Throwing the door of the lavatory open, his back to the left side, he let out the breath he had been holding and just as quickly lowered his wand. On the ground were Malfoy and his two goons, both twitching and looking like a trio of pus-filled slugs. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs whom Harry knew from his time with the Dueling and Self-Defense Club were moving the bodies on to a luggage rack, where the ooze dripped to the ground. Judging from the stain marks, it looked as though the Slytherins had been about to kick down the door to the loo and waylay him. Harry looked over at Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Terry Boot, who had obviously sprung their own ambush on the trio of Slytherins. Nodding his thanks, Harry looked over at the oozing bodies. At one time, Harry supposed he might have enjoyed watching the pus ooze, almost as though it were blood. Now, though, having actually watched people that he was close to bleed in a similar fashion….

That train of thought stopped as another occurred to him: before him was the kind of war that was to come, indeed was already upon them. Harry had been caught with his guard down, and odds were had these not been amateurs they would have done some serious damage before he could have had his wand drawn. Keeping his eyes open, staring straight ahead out the windows and the rolling countryside, Harry was tempted to go back into the loo, and ease the feelings he was feeling in his stomach. He didn't, forcing himself to breathe slowly and calmly. Vaguely, he could hear Ron saying something about Goyle's mom going to be appreciative as he looked loads better. Harry concentrated some more, and looked over at Ron who said, "Come on, let's go join the others."

Harry nodded and followed him into the train compartment, where Hermione, Luna, Katrina and Neville were waiting. Katrina and Neville were embracing, Neville resting his head on her shoulder. Harry made his way to the window, and looked out the rolling countryside as his friends listened to Hermione read the articles from the press. The magical community of Great Britain was in a total uproar, with fear running rampant, the Ministry trying to reassure what looked like a highly disillusioned public that all was well.

Hermione finished reading a story of how there had been a flood of floo messages and Howlers at the Ministry and local constabularies throughout England as anxious wizards and witches reported seeing Death Eaters almost behind every blade of grass in the land. She sighed, "I'm afraid it's only going to be the beginning." Harry nodded, and looked to his left as Doc, who looked something like Death slightly warmed over, staggered into the room dragging along a pair of black suitcases. Harry moved to help him, but Doc waved him aside as he threw one, then the other, with both hands onto the luggage racks. Luna got up and made room for him as he sat down on the green leather seating. Resting his head back, Doc closed his eyes and breathed deeply several times.

Whatever the medical procedure he had undergone, it had obviously sapped his strength, as well as body weight as Doc looked like a cadaver. The suit he had worn when he first arrived at Hogwarts hung over his frame limp and loose. Doc's normally beige skin was now as yellow as old parchment paper. While he hadn't been exactly fat, Doc hadn't been thin as a rail either, but now Harry could painfully make out the bones in Doc's body. His face was so thin it could have been a skull.

Doc's eyes opened, and Harry could see that they were blood-shot, and set so deep into the cavities that they may as well have not existed. Hermione asked the question that was on everyone's mind as to why Doc was with them and not in the hospital: "Doc, aren't you supposed to be…"

The eyes turned to Hermione, and remarked, "No, but I told the bonesaws that I would be going to get medical assistance during the debriefing by the Magical Justice Department when I got back so it wouldn't matter." Doc shrugged, and held up his hands. As he did so the sleeves of his shirt slunk down, and Harry saw the ugly marks where Nev had had to insert a catheter so that they could pump an IV into him so that Doc could stay alive. Harry saw in his mind the chips of wood and stone flying in the air, rounds both bullet and magic hitting the furniture they were using as cover.

Once again the door swung open, and this time Harry looked up to see Ginny, her dark red hair pulled back in a French braid, and wearing a dark green skirt that ended just below her knees, pumps, stocking, and matching blouse. Around her neck she wore the locket that she had received over Christmas. She had stowed her trunk earlier, and the suitcase that carried her muggle clothes that she now wore as they transited the train station was in her hand. This she set on the ground and shoved into a corner. Doc started to rise, but she waved him down.

Ron, his arm around Hermione's shoulders and obviously wanting to change the subject to something besides the war and indirectly the deaths of Sirius and Alex, asked his sister, "Where'd you disappeared off to last night?" Ginny looked at her brother in the eyes and responded, "I had to send a few letters and howlers to Mum, Dad, the twins, Bill, and Charlie."

"What? Why?" Ron looked at her quizzically. Harry leaned back against the window, putting on an image of casual, friendly interest. To his friends, he had shown up back at the common sometime in the wee hours of the morning, slightly drunk, but nonetheless somewhat sobered up by the rain and damp at the same time. What they didn't know though was that Ginny had comforted him, held him in the shallow part of the lake as he sobbed and sobbed until he could sob no more, and when he had tried to say how thought he didn't believe he should be alive while so many others lived, she had only brought him closer, hugged him closer, and cried with him. That night, as the rain pounded, and the thunder roared, Harry had made a decision, asked Ginny about it in his intoxicated state, and both agreed to it.

Considering he damn near had alcohol poisoning, that said something of his stamina…Or luck

Ginny looked at her brother, and smiled slowly, "A girl has to let her parents and brothers know that she's bringing home a boy she loves rather dearly home shouldn't she?" Doc laughed as Ron bolted straight up and demanded, "What! What about me?"

"What about you, Ronald?"

Ron sputtered, but was hushed by Hermione. Hermione looked over at Ginny, smiled, and asked, "I believe your brother actually meant to ask just whom this might be?"

Doc chimed in, "Wait one. Check this out first." He reached over to his backpack, which he had tossed on top of his luggage, and removed his CD player, which Moody had recovered from the carriage and given back to him while he was still bed-ridden. Taking out his wand, Doc tapped it twice and soft notes of guitar started to play. Everyone stopped and listened as the song started, _It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart_…

"A buddy of mine took a time turner and recorded this song. He said his girlfriend loves it…and is gonna buy it on the muggle market when it comes out." Doc was grinning, and ignoring the look of horror Hermione was giving him. Smirking, he explained that when he went back he was going to destroy the scroll, and stay tuned for the next couple of years for Allison Krause. Harry smiled and listened. The music was enchanting to say the least…

Harry felt his breathing slow, as the words hit him. '_Live, Harry_' the words his uncle had spoken to him, the memories that he had…He turned towards Ginny, and she looked at him, and smiled. Inside he felt…Harry his blood flow, his breathing constrict, and the muscles in his chest tighten. Over the course of the year, a year of pain and misery and death, she had been there for him. She had been there before, too, only he hadn't seen it.

And what have I done in return, Harry mused. He had kept the one thing, not the training, not the sheer anger and stubbornness, the one thing that he had hidden in the deepest most recessed part of his brain so that the bastards couldn't find it, the one thing he had tried to hide from Voldemort, only to discover that all it had done was cause her grief, and keep his friends and family, for indeed that was what the Weasleys and his comrades were, in the dark…

Harry made a snap decision then and there…

_And you say it best…when you say nothing at all._

Turning towards Ginny, he grinned, and said to her, "Why don't you introduce us to this special someone, eh Gin?" Her eyebrows arched delightfully, as she must have caught on to the game he was playing. "Should I, Harry?" She asked. Harry smiled, and nodded. Ron was turning red by now, as he looked over at his sister, and nodded his head. "Yes, Ginny, do show him to us." She smirked at her brother, "Give me a moment then, so I can go get him." Ginny moved towards the door, but Harry slid in front of it blocking it off. The grin on his face went from one end of his face to the other. He looked down at Ginny, who looked back with an equally delighted grin.

"No need to go anywhere, Gin…" Whatever else he was going say stopped, for as Harry leaned to kiss her forehead, Ginny had thrown her arms around his neck and brought his face down to hers. Harry felt the soft suppleness of her lips, and lost him for a moment before he gently broke away as he felt Ginny turning around. Resting his arms around her waist, he breathed in her lavender scent, and looked at the faces in the compartment. Everyone, with the exception of Doc (who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat), were wide-mouthed in amazement.

Hermione got her wits together the quickest, and asked, "Since when?"

Ginny answered, "Since Colin cheated on me." Harry looked over at Ron; of all of the reactions he feared, he feared Ron's.

Ron, though, kept his face expressionless. Hermione asked, as she quickly grasped the situation, "Why'd both of you hide it?"

Harry, his right hand gently stroking Ginny's hair, explained, "All of you know the job I had. You and Ron were already targets because of you are my friends, but it would have been double worse for any woman I saw, much less…" Harry paused, held Ginny tighter, felt her tighten her arms around his, and answered softly, "Much less the one woman whom I love more then anything in the world, Hermione," fixing his eyes on his best friend, "Ron."

Ron then did something Harry hadn't expected: he laughed. Now it was the turn for Harry and Ginny to stare, along with everyone else. Gently untangling himself from Hermione, he went over to his best friend, and looked him in the eye. Harry looked back, both sides just staring at each other. Doc's music stopped, and the only noise was the clicking of the rails, everyone in the compartment holding their breath.

Then the tension broke as Ron laughed anew, and slapped his best mate on the back. "Good, better you then any of the other bastards out there." He held out his hand, and said, "Treat her well, and we won't have any problems. Clear?" Harry grinned, both because the situation was unfolding far from the worst he could imagine (i.e. Ron throwing a classic fit and trying to kill him), and also

"Crystal" and he shook Ron's hand.

Everyone relaxed and Harry laughed. Inside he had the same drained feeling he had after a fight, the tension and fear, fear that he would be losing the best friend he had, was going away, making him feel giddy and light-headed and sick all at the same time. Harry took a deep breath, smiled. "Well, guess the hard part's over."

Now it was Ginny's turn to laugh, and Harry felt her laugh the laugh he loved so well. She turned around in his arms and faced him, her face smirking in amusement. Harry raised an eyebrow in question, her hands running up and down his arms. Ginny answered, "I forgot to mention something last night, Harry dear." Her tone was light with amusement.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"That when I told you I was going to tell my family about you, I didn't mention one detail…"

"Go on, Gin…"

Her eyes had a glint to them that Harry had only seen when they were doing something that could have gotten them caught. It brought a fiery glint to her brown eyes, and Harry felt his pulse quicken. Ginny smiled, and answered, "I didn't mention the fact that not only will Mum and Dad be present at the station, but so will my brothers."

Harry felt a cold leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach now.

"All of them?" Despite his best efforts, Harry thought he heard his voice quiver and crack. There was slight pressure, Harry could feel, on his bladder; for he had thought he would have some time between the station and the Burrow before the whole clan found out…

Ginny nodded, obviously amused by his discomfort.

Harry suddenly felt the need to go to the bathroom.

The atmosphere around Platform Nine and Three Quarters was tense, on edge. Due to various by-laws enacted over the years, Goblin mercenaries were prohibited from entering London. The only exception to that rule had been a rotating detachment which secured the Ministry of Magic with the Aurors, though that had been removed by Fudge, and then hurriedly reinstated the day following the firefight within the Department of Mysteries.

Nonetheless, the platform was swarming with members from the Ministry. Wizard and witch parents nervously fingered their wands, whilst around them a skirmish line of Aurors and Hit Wizards kept a watchful eye. Magical sensors were emplaced throughout the station, coupled with roving four wizard patrols. Overhead, mounted on brooms with invisibility cloaks, more personnel maintained aerial surveillance along the route of the train. Command and control operated out of a small office located in the back of gift shop within King's Cross Station. That, in turn, was connected to a command center that Amelia Bones had put together on short notice using space within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While the days following the attack within the Department of Mysteries had been quiet, no one was taking any chances, and Bones, with support from Dumbledore and senior members of the Wizengamot, to issue a recall order for all retired and former wizards and witches who had been part of the Ministry in the first war. Fudge had been hesitant, but had knuckled under.

One of the few wizards who had received an owl from the Ministry with a letter that started 'The Ministry of Magic hereby recalls…to Active Service on…' and didn't view said letter with disgust took a swig out of a silver flask and put it back into a trench coat pocket. Overcast conditions, coupled with a fifty five percent chance of rain had given him just the reason to wear a trench coat…and a Kevlar vest underneath with ceramic inserts that could stop a blade and projectile weapons up to 7.62 mm NATO. Beside him were Arthur and Molly Weasley, together with the twins, Bill and Charlie.

Molly glanced at the sky, and wondered how long before it would rain. Beside her Arthur tapped his umbrella in a steady rhythm, while the boys talked about the mail all of them had received the night before. Around midnight all had received school owls from Hogwarts, each carrying a short message saying that Ginny was returning to Hogwarts, and that they should all be present. While Arthur and Molly had been planning on arriving at the station previously both to pick up their own children and to check on Harry, but Ginny's letter had left them curious indeed. Ginny had told them that they were returning tomorrow, and while she knew that her mother and father would be there, she asked that her brothers be there as well. She had explained that she wanted them all to meet her boyfriend, whom she stated would be the last one she would ever need. Ginny stated that she had finally found the one, one quite unlike Colin.

Arthur and Molly had heard all about Colin from her brothers, and were naturally curious to see who this new fellow was. Ginny's brothers, upon reading the letters that they had received, were even more curious.

It was why Bill, Charlie, Fred and George were huddled together discussing just how thoroughly they were going to make sure Ginny's latest wasn't a cheating tosser like Colin. Arthur and Molly looked at their boys in shock, Molly scowling in particular, after they overheard Charlie discussing one particularly vigorous questioning style that involved Hungarian Horn-Tails. "You had better not hurt this boy, Charlie or so help me…" Molly shook her head and the boys hurriedly nodded their ascent. Fred quipped though, "We won't hurt him, mum."

George whispered to his brothers, "Much". They continued to nod, stopping only as the whistle sounded from the train.

Molly turned towards her husband and shook her head. "I swear, Arthur, they only get worse as they grow older." Arthur couldn't help but agree as he looked into the distance. Yet, truth be told, he was as curious as the boys as to who this young man was. Arthur glanced over at his wife, and a tiny bit of nostalgia went over him as he thought about him and his wife. The two had been close since…He scratched his head, as he couldn't really remember a time when it hadn't been the two of them. What he did remember was the time her brothers, the twins Gideon and Fabian had found out. Arthur chuckled, remembering how they had scared him brutal, and then wished him the best once he had passed their muster.

His attentions were brought back to the present as heard Molly ask Moody, "Have you heard anything about how Harry is taking everything?" Moody continued to look at the approaching train as he answered. "He's taking it quiet, bottling everything inside…" He shrugged, "It'll only be a matter of time before he either opens up and deals with it that way or he'll fall apart. Neither of which is in our hands, only his." The train slowly came to a stop as he concluded, with the Molly and Arthur have to agree glumly, that all they could do was try to provide him a source of support in the times ahead.

As the train rolled to a stop, the Weasleys and Moody saw that one student was standing in the doorway of one of the passenger cars. Dark hair, black muggle suit, black hair that despite a recent haircut looked like it was still unruly, and a lithe, thin frame, one that unmistakably bore Harry's features. Standing the way they were behind one of the station pillars, with a bevy of Aurors standing guard at intervals throughout the platform, Moody and the others were able to watch him without being seen. Molly made a move towards him, but stopped as Harry stepped out, looked around, and then someone behind him put hands over his eyes. They watched as while Harry's initial expression had been almost expressionless, perhaps a bit apprehensive with a touch of fear judging by how his eyes had roamed the station, it was transformed. First there was surprise, and then the corners of Harry's mouth moved upwards, and they heard him laugh, and step back, up and around. His back was to them now, but Molly could make out a pair of arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer. She knew what Harry was doing and glancing over at her husband (whose face was as surprised as she was) was about to say something when Arthur's eyes widened even more, and then said, his face full of consternation and amusement at the same time, "Well I'll be…". Molly looked over and saw the cause.

Harry had stepped back, the girl with whom he was kissing in his arms. Stepping on to the platform backwards, and without falling down, he twirled her around, the girl (no, Molly corrected herself, young woman) laughing as Harry set her down on the platform, and hugged her close. Harry leaned in, kissed her once more on the lips, and was kissing his way up to the top of her head when Ron stuck his head out and yelled, "OI!" Harry didn't look up, only held up a hand and raised two fingers. Ron only shook his head, and got back in.

Molly recognized the girl in Harry's arms, the one who looked at her with the same expression she saw on Arthur's face before he left for work, and came back at night. It was the same look he had first given her when they had met on the Hogwarts Express so many years ago. The girl in Harry's arms whom it was obvious he so adored she knew quite well. After all, she had carried her for nine long months, and watched her grow…Ginny.

She looked over at her husband, who recognized all of the signs. He looked over at her, smiled warmly, and said, "You remember the first time I introduced to my parents when we were together?" Molly laughed, "Do you remember the first time I introduced you to my brothers?" Arthur laughed and said, "Shall we my dear?" He held out his hand, and Molly took it, linked it through one of her arms, and together they walked forward.

Harry kissed Ginny one more time when he heard footsteps behind him. "Potter…" It was cold voice, one he really couldn't place. Slowly, he turned to face Ginny's brothers. Charlie was in black business kit, standard Ministry issue down to the black trench coat and shades he had in his pocket. The twins and Bill were dressed up in denim and leather, looking for all like a trio of football hooligans. All, though, wore blank expressions, and Harry felt a ball of fear in his stomach.

Ginny, though, was made of sterner stuff. Holding on to Harry's hand, she held her head high and looked as though she was going to say something when, "Ginny! Ron!" It was Mrs. Weasley, who hurried over and embraced Ginny and Ron, who had stepped off the train behind the couple. She let go, and turned to Harry, a smile on her face. "Hello Harry." Arthur Weasly followed right behind her, and looked at him smiling. "Harry, I have only thing I can really do about this sudden surprise." Harry kept his face straight, fearing what was going to happen next.

Mr. Weasley went up to him, and embraced him. Harry was surprised, but went along with it.

The eldest Weasley broke off, and looked at him in the eyes. Arthur smiled, and said, "I trust you won't be like the last boy, Ginny brought home will you? Molly, the boys and I would hate to be disappointed with someone whom we consider one of our own?" Harry nodded. Arthur's smile only grew, "In that case…"

Molly stopped him when she went over to Harry and hugged him tightly. Harry didn't know what came over him next, but he started to sob. After the previous night, he didn't think he had anything left in him, but this was too much. Here was family, the closest thing he had to it at any rate, yet still…

"Shh…It's all right Harry." Molly held him, letting go as Ginny switched with her. Harry sobbed for a moment or two, and then his training, the steel that was Alex's legacy in the short time he had cared for him, kicked in.

Taking a couple of deep, sobbing breaths, Harry wiped his eyes and looked at his friends, his family. None looked at him with pity, only concern. He forced himself to grin, "Can't keep the Dursley's waiting now can I?" Arthur coughed, and replied, "Speaking of which…" Lupin and Moody, who had been watching from the side, came up. Moody, eyeball swiveling, came up to him and spoke gruffly, "In case no one's told you, you'll only be staying there for a month, maybe less. After that, we'll get you out." Lupin gently placed a hand on his shoulder, looked as though he would say something, but only smiled sadly and squeezed Harry's shoulder. Harry nodded, and with Ginny holding on to his hand, and his other dragging behind his lone suitcase (Moody had earlier that morning had luggage transported by Goblin to the students' permanent addresses, the point being to limit the potential for a bomb or worse to be on board the Hogwarts Express; students with owls had been ordered to send their owls ahead with the cages transported by the Ministry with their unaccompanied baggage), Harry walked forward and through the wall.

His timing was perfect, as the station was bustling with activity and nobody noticed the two of them as they exited into the station. Right outside Harry and Ginny waited patiently. Though he wasn't sure, he guessed that Moody had scattered Aurors and other wizards in plain clothes as an additional layer of security. That he figured for Harry had recognized the pink-haired form of Tonks, who was dressed in blue jeans, leather jacket, and an AC/DC T-shirt. Harry also noticed a larger number of uniformed Bobbies, which could only mean that someone had gotten Fudge to go ahead and alert the muggle authorities to the dangers ahead. Shortly thereafter, the others joined them where Neville and Katrina said goodbye to them, as Ramius and Snape had sent his daughter to stay with the Longbottoms for the summer, for both would be working for the Order following the attack on the Ministry. Grandmother Longbottom arrived as they did, prim and proper as always, and hurried them along.

"Oi!" Looking to his left, Harry found himself in the bear-like embrace of Dudley Dursley. Duds pulled back and asked, "You doing all right, mate?" He nodded, and proceeded to introduce him to the others. While polite, the Weasleys remembered him from the previous visit they had had before Harry's fourth year. Dudley, dressed in blue jeans, England rugby shirt, and denim jacket, shyly greeted them and then took Harry's suitcase. He asked Harry, "You ready? I got a lift outside waiting." Nodding, Harry, with Ginny by his side, walked through the crowds of people to the entrance to the station. On the way he asked him why the heavy police presence, and Dudley shrugged, saying that the telly reported a possible terrorist attack in the UK on the rails and on the tube. Harry nodded along, as he had been briefed that one of the Ministry's protocols from the previous war involved using the cover of a muggle terrorist attack to facilitate cooperation between the two governments. Still walking, he asked, "You know what happened to Alex?" Dudley looked away for a moment, and then nodded. While he hadn't been there when Harry and Moody had delivered the news to Linda, he had arrived the next day when his school term ended. Since then he had been helping Linda around the house, and pretty much trying to keep himself from thinking too much over the loss.

"When's she due?" Ginny asked.

"About a month, maybe less."

Trying to lighten the mood, and to change the subject, Dudley then began telling Harry he had enrolled as a cadet with an OTC unit at the junior level. Despite being several years away, he had been cracking the books, and cracking the gym as he had his mind set on the Army from then on out. "Any idea what you want?" Harry asked.

Dudley shook his head, "Still a longs way off. Keep my options open, eh?"

Outside they were walking to the waiting black cab when they heard someone shout, "Oi, ye bastards!" They turned, for the shout had come from the line of coaches behind their cab. Before them, smoking a cigarette and grinning, was Tom Courtenay. Next to Tom were the others that had taught the both of them all they knew. Ghost, Fletcher, Rooney. All of them had their weapons slung, bergens at their feet. It was quite obvious that they had just returned from deployment.

"Right then, quite mucking about and load up now." Courtenay and his mates began moving as the voice of Nev's uncle was heard over the traffic. Longbottom stepped out of one of the coaches, and gave a friendly wave as he, like any good sergeant, got his platoon moving and on the coaches. A few stopped to wave, and Harry saw a few windows get lowered as waves were sent his way.

Stepping up to the taxi, Dudley took his luggage and started loading it. Harry shook hands with Arthur, received hugs from Molly and Hermione, and said his goodbyes to the rest. Arthur assured him, "We'll get you out as quick as we can, Harry. Have no doubts of that."

Harry smiled, "I never did, and never will."

Finally, as the Weasley clan, the lads of 2/B/2 Para, and Hermione and Dudley looked on, he turned to Ginny. Ginny smiled up at him, and asked, "Owl me often?"

"Often" Harry promised as he hugged her. Tempted to kiss her one last time, he leaned forward to giver her a quick peck on the forehead. After all, he didn't want to do anything improper in front of her parents after all…

This time, though, it was Ginny's turn to steal a kiss as she twisted her head upwards, and caught him on the lips. Harry held her, and molded his lips to hers as he heard Tom shout out, "Well Done, lad!" He pulled away, and held her close. As he did so he let himself be comforted, and took a look around. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were holding hands, smiling gently. Gin's brothers were glaring daggers, yet also smiling and nodding their heads in approval. Dudley was leaning against the side of the taxi, a smirk on his face while the men of 2nd Platoon cheered him on, one of their own.

Flicking his eyes to the sky, Harry's thought of his life, the year in an instant. Bawdy, debauched, bloody, violent, a bit depraved even…yet passionate, loving, and so much more that couldn't be put into words.

The war may have started, casualties taken, but there was always tomorrow, a new day, and like the previous year, what would come would occur in its own due time.

Thousands of miles away, under a new moon, in the depths of a steam jungle, a man ran. Splashing over rivers, feeling the rain pouring over him, he didn't know where he was going, yet he still pushed on. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. In the depths of his mind, he thought himself insane, yet only a sane man could think himself insane could he not? Images of gun fire, monstrous spiders black as night, a pale wizened old man smiling at him much like the spiders.

With every step the man could feel himself feeling his age, yet what was it? Had the years that he thought had passed really passed? Was this all a hallucination? Was it…

He stopped thinking. Alone, cut off, running from an enemy that may or may not be looking for him, an environment at the end of the world…He had done it before, when he had been so, so young…

Balling his hands into fists, ignoring the pain in every joint and piece of flesh on him, the boots on his feet falling apart, he kept going. Whatever happened, he was going to make it back to civilization, and then back to England. Even if the road he had to take was through Hell…For no hell could be as bad as the existence of sorts he had endured for only God knew how long.

With a vow to lover, and their children, he moved on, the water hitting the treetops of the triple-canopy.

**The End**

Note: About another month or so I'll have the sequel out, so stay tuned. And thanks to all who have read this over the years.


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